Where There's Smoke
by Hoo-ah
Summary: Before the Quest of the Ring, the hobbits still managed to bury themselves in some sort of trouble. Pippin finds himself hobbit-napped, and now Frodo, Sam, and Merry must venture through dangerous paths to save their friend.
1. A pipeweed-worthy dilemma

**CHAPTER ONE:** A pipeweed-worthy dilemma

* * * 

"I think I heard something." 

"It was probably the wind echoing in your hollow head." 

"No, I heard something." 

"Hold these." 

Pippin couldn't help but let out a sigh as Merry shoved a large pile of various fruits vegetables into his arms, a few carrots and apples falling to the ground. "Farmer Maggot won't be very happy when he finds out that we were in his crops again," he warned, feeling slightly nervous. He cringed at the mere thought of the consequence if the farmer saw them. Merry merely picked up a rather large apple off the ground, dusted it, and smiled as he slipped it into Pippin's pocket. 

It was late afternoon.  The farmer wouldn't be home until early evening, after his daily walk with his two precious canines. The sun still shone mercilessly in the sky and upon the backs of the two mischief-loving hobbits. They were somewhat concealed from onlookers within the tall cornstalk fields, but that didn't lift the fear from Pippin. 

Merry, on the other hand, was as relaxed as ever. "But he won't find out.  We're just taking a few things. He won't even miss them," he reassured as he randomly picked an ear of corn off a stalk. 

Eyeing his surroundings nervously again, Pippin bit his lip. "I sure hope not… I don't want those mutts of his after us," he admitted, wincing.  He remembered the last time they were caught for pulling mischief in the farmer's property.  His rear throbbed for weeks, and he had developed a fear for dogs ever since.

Merry snorted, but continued walking through the tall corn stalk field.  He was lucky to have escaped without consequence, and felt no guilt in 'borrowing'.  "Those dumb dogs couldn't find their way out of a wet paper bag even if their lives counted on it!" 

"I sure hope you're right, but–" Pippin replied, but he trailed off at the end when he realized something wrong. His mind kept screaming the presence of danger, but it wasn't until then that he knew what the danger was. His eyes falling to the ground, he watched as a large shadow slowly crept upon everything before him.  It veiled the sun like a thick mysterious cloud.

His heart stopped at the sudden absence of light. He slowly looked up, the pile of vegetables dropping from his hands and tumbling to the dirt beneath, forgotten. 

"No worries, Pip'!  We've done this many times before," Merry continued walking, oblivious to the shadow upon him. 

"Merry…" Pippin started, his eyes wide in shock and jaw dropped to the floor. 

Unfortunately, his friend did not catch on quite as quick as expected.  "I mean, we've been caught only once, but he has nothing to prove it was us!" he laughed. 

"Merry…" Pippin repeated, unable to form any other words. 

The hobbit froze, and slapped his forehead in frustration. "Mushrooms! That's what we're missing… mushrooms!" Merry exclaimed, spinning around and heading back towards Pippin. He skidded to a stop when he saw his friend staring up into the sky, the pile of vegetables at his feet. 

Then, it hit him: the mysterious shadow that was cast. Merry's eyes slowly rose, and dropped his jaw at the figure he saw in the sky. 

Gliding gracefully in the sun was a large creature, lean and stretched. Its great wings spanned impressively twice its body length, flaunting its beauty and marvel. But it was too far to tell what it was. "Is that… who… what… gah?" Pippin stuttered, after a long moment's silence. 

Merry blinked, and realized he was holding his breath. Instead of answering the hobbit, he continued gawking at the creature, and squinted at the sun's blinding glare.  It was a strange thing, this flying creature.  A part of him wanted to run from it, screaming in a frenzy of terror, but another part of him wanted to merely stand there and continue gaping at its magnificence. He had never seen anything of the like.  "Pippin… it's becoming bigger," he pointed out curiously. 

Pippin shook his head, his eyes still glued. "No, it isn't…" the Took answered. "It's just approaching us really quickly." Sure enough, the shadowed creature soared closer and closer, its great wings flapping in the air with great strength. The two hobbits could feel the increasingly strong winds push towards them as they stood, their hair flying wildly in reaction. 

The creature's figure became clearer now, its red scales reflecting of the sun's rays. Its gleaming eyes glared evilly, and donned on the beast's face was a toothy grin that the hobbits dared not trust. "It's… a dragon!" Pippin exclaimed in a state of awe as he continued to gaze at the oncoming figure. 

The phrase sank in almost immediately after it left his mouth. "IT'S A DRAGON!" Pippin repeated, this time with panic and fear. "FLY! FLY! IT'S A DRAGON!" 

He needn't tell Merry twice. They both spun around and fled as fast as their stout legs could take them through the vast cornfield, not daring to turn and look back. "This is far worse than being chased by dogs!" Pippin screamed as he ran beside his friend. 

"You can say that again! How do you s'pose we get out of this mess?" Merry shouted back in between breaths. 

Pippin turned his head, and his eyes widened at the sight of the beast's giant deadly claws directly before them. There wasn't a moment to lose. "Duck!" he cried. 

His friend shot him a look as if the other hobbit had grown an extra head. "This is no time to think about birds, Pip'!" 

"No, Merry!  DUCK!" 

Before Merry could protest again, he was shoved aside by his friend with a forceful push. He tumbled onto the ground without more than an _'Oomph,'_ his mouth gathering the foul taste of dirt. 

Merry quickly lifted his head from the soil to watch the claws of the dragon pass directly above, missing him by a hair. "Pippin!" he yelled as he watched the dragon grasp an enormous clawful of the cornstalks, along with Pippin lost inside the plants. Merry could do nothing as his eyes followed the creature soar swiftly away, disappearing into the far distance. 

And all was still once more. It was as if nothing happened at all, save the giant patch of dirt in place of where cornstalks once proudly stood. "Oh no," the hobbit gasped, recollecting his scattered thoughts as he rose to his feet.  Pippin was gone.  The beast took him, along with a chunk of Farmer Maggot's crops.  

And they had no mushrooms.

"Oh… no, no, no!" Without giving it a second thought, he spun around and did the first thing that came to his mind. 

He fled. 

* * * 

Samwise looked up in the sky, suddenly feeling something amiss in the air. His eyes darted around him nervously, but all was as if it should be. There were a few hobbit children playing down the path, the birds were singing happily, and a wagon pulled by a small pony passed by, squeaking loudly. 

"What's wrong?" 

Sam snapped from his thoughts and saw Frodo questioning him innocently. "I don't know, but I have a bad feeling," he answered, shivering from a sudden chill down his spine.  And he knew better than to ignore his intuition.  "It's as if something horrid is going to happen…" 

Frodo smiled, and gave his friend a reassuring pat on the back. "Don't worry, nothing ever happens in the Shire anyway." 

"I sure hope so, Mister Frodo," he replied as he turned back to tending the flowers before him. "It's just that I never worry without a reason. And as the ol' Gaffer used to say, _'Always trust your first instinct, Sam',_ and my instincts say trou–" 

The hobbit never did get to finish his sentence.  He was abruptly knocked over to the ground with a loud thud, the air squeezed from his lungs as a large object weighed him down. "Sam!" the stranger shrieked in between panting, two trembling hands seizing him by the collar and shaking him frantically. 

"Stop–shake–ing–me," Sam ordered as his head rocked back and forth from the forceful hands of the stranger. The shaking ceased immediately, allowing Sam to catch his breath. He blinked away the floating stars in his eyes, and all was becoming clearer. His vision soon returned, and he was able to focus once more. 

On top of him was a panic-stricken Merry, his face as if he had seen a ghost. "Am I ever glad to see you! I didn't mean to trip over you, but I didn't see you, but now I have, so I am really, really happy to have done that," he blurted out, all in breath. Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face, and he was unusually edgier.  Sam didn't want to find out why. 

"Merry, get off poor Samwise," Frodo commanded as he pulled the hobbit up and onto his feet and brushed some dirt off his cousin's clothes. "Start from the beginning, and try to breathe in between sentences." 

"Weweresinmaggotzcropzandpippinwazstoledbysadragon," he sputtered, wheezing for air. This time, stars and planets were beginning to appear before _his_ eyes. 

Frodo raised his eyebrow at his friend, and sighed. "Have you been eating those special mushrooms again?" he asked, crossing his arms strictly. 

Merry shook his head uneasily, his sweat-soaked hair whipping in the air and onto his face in reflex. After a long moment passed, the hobbit managed to catch his breath once again. "We were in Farmer Maggot's crops…" he began slowly, "…Andpippinwazstoledbyadragon." 

"I think you need a smoke," Sam pointed out as he pulled a pipe he always kept handy in his pocket, and offered it to Merry. The latter stared at the pipe, but shook his head in refusal (though the thought of pipeweed did slightly lift his spirits.) 

He took a deep breath, trying hard to calm his ever-racing heart. He started again, determined to at least tell his friends of the dire predicament he found himself in. Sure, his story would have to be told two words at a time, but as long as the message was clear and delivered. 

"Pippin…" Merry paused, and took another deep breath before continuing, "…Was stole'd." 

Another awkward moment passed between the three. It was Frodo who broke the silence, clearing his throat before speaking one simple word. "…_Stole'd_??" 

A solemn nod was his reply. "Yes." 

"Don't you mean 'stolen'?" Frodo corrected. 

Sam raised an eyebrow and snorted. "And who would steal a hobbit?" 

Merry's eyes widened. "A dragon!" 

"A _dragon?_" Sam and Frodo gasped, and exchanged looks of awe. 

"A dragon!" he confirmed. 

Frodo stared at Sam, who stared at Merry, who was in return staring at Frodo. None knew what to do, how to react, or even what to say. Yet another long somber silence fell in between the three friends, whose eyes fell to the floor either in respect of the missing hobbit, or in pure confusion. Dragons were only mere characters of children's stories; surely they did not exist!  

But if they did not exist, why did Merry claim to have seen a dragon "steal" Pippin?

Of course, in true hobbit fashion, there was only one solution that could ease their troubled minds from the shock and perplexity of their dilemma. "Sam, I need your pipe," Frodo demanded, turning to the gardener. 

Usually, the kindly hobbit would gladly hand over his precious pipe to his master, but not today.  "It's mine, bugger off," Sam snapped as he pulled out his pipe once again, and began patting his pockets for a light. 

"I'm more traumatized than any of you, give it to me!" Merry piped in as he lunged for the pipe. 

And so, the situation of Pippin and the dragon was temporarily pushed to the back of their minds as they fought viciously for the smoking device. After all, they had to settle a more important issue at the moment: dibs on the pipeweed. 


	2. The dawn of a new adventure

**CHAPTER TWO:** The dawn of a new adventure

* * * 

It was settled: at the rise of the sun, after a good hearty breakfast, the three of them would be off to search for their kidnapped (or rather, _hobbit_-napped) friend.  Though they did not know where exactly to start, they figured that there had to be witnesses who saw the hobbit-napper and its escape route.  After all, it wasn't hard to miss a giant red dragon even if one was blind and dumb. 

It wasn't in their plan, but it was well after noon before they were ready to set off.  Sam insisted on continuously running back into his house to rummage for various objects, claiming that it was absolutely necessary for their voyage (Frodo drew the line when Sam came back with a utensil he called a spork in his hand).  By the time they were ready, their stomachs insisted that they have second and third breakfast, as well as lunch before their departure.  Of course, being hobbits, they were more than happy to oblige. 

When they finally left the comfort of their home, they managed to avoid most of the questions of suspicious hobbits as they traveled down the twisted dirt road.  Merry was a true artist when it came to lying, or _distorting the truth,_ as he called it.  Every hobbit that asked received a reply that the three were headed towards the other end of Hobbiton to visit a friend, though they didn't mention whom.  It wasn't entirely a lie; they were indeed headed towards the other end of the town, though they planned on traveling further and beyond that. 

Many other questions followed that, but Merry handled them very well by pointing towards the sky, screaming, "Oh my stars, what is that?!"  When the curious questioner turned, the three would bolt off as quickly as they were allowed.  It worked rather well; Frodo was surprised that every single one of them fell for the oldest trick in the book. 

Finally, after it seemed like forever, they arrived at the ever-so famous Brandywine Bridge.  Stopping for a short break before continuing on, they unpacked their gear and Sam began immediately preparing a meal.  "All this walking is making me hungry," he explained. 

"Then at this rate, we'll run out of food even before we leave the Shire," Frodo pointed out as he sat down. 

"But, as the old Gaffer would say to me, _'it is never healthy to journey with a tight belt,' " _Sam replied. 

"But we'll–" 

Merry snapped at Frodo before he had a chance to finish his reply.  "Why are you arguing against food?" 

Frodo thought for a moment, and realized the logic in Merry's sentence.  He smiled.  "Forget what I said, Sam." 

And so, after a heartily eaten dinner, followed briefly by supper, the three hobbits decided to rest for the night and continue their search tomorrow.  After all, once they exit the Shire, they were positive that they would not have the chance to be so relaxed and casual.  It was best to take advantage of the peace while they could. 

* * * 

Pippin awoke with a throbbing headache, and was unable to remember what had happened.  Everything before him was consumed by darkness.  A foul stench plagued the air so awful he almost gagged.  Slowly and blindly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, careful not to do anything to intensify his pounding headache. 

_Where am I?_ he asked himself, blinking rapidly in attempt to adjust his eyes to the complete darkness, with no such luck. Patting his pockets for something that could be of use, he sighed in relief as his fingers ran over the two familiar stones.  What a coincidence it was, that he always kept some flint handy for lighting his pipe!  Instinctively, he reached in his other pocket for his pipe, but unfortunately it was nowhere to be found. 

_What's a flint with no pipe?  A hobbit with no feet, an elf with no hair, a horse with two legs,_ he sighed sadly, sulking.  But he decided to light something anyway.  At least it would provide him some light that would allow him to see where he was.  Placing some crumpled paper he found in his pocket, he proceeded to light it on fire with his flint and tinder.  He was successful; the small piece of paper caught on fire immediately from the sparks.  The warm but tiny fire dimly illuminated his surroundings as he gingerly picked the lit paper with his hand.

Pippin frowned when he saw that he was in a rather large cave, and wondered how he got there in the first place.  He turned around to examine his situation further, when what he saw almost made him drop his only source of light.  Directly behind him lay skeleton and bones as far as his light allowed him to see, some with their rusty armor hanging off the dusty limbs, others with rotting flesh still attached. 

He stifled a scream that he felt rise from his throat.  There was no way that he could have accidentally wandered into this tomb.  It must have been a trick, or a sick prank of some sort.  "Merry, if you are here, the joke's over!" he yelled on top of his lungs.

The only answer was the sound of his echo mocking his voice scornfully.  Pippin spun around nervously, and began to doubt everything in his mind.  "Merry?  Frodo?  Anyone?" he asked uncertainly.  

His voice echoed throughout the cave again, but this time fainter.  The hobbit jumped at a sudden rattling noise, which much to his relief was merely a skeleton falling over to its side.  

He panicked.  _What did I do this time to deserve this?!_

Straining his ears for any sound other than himself, he suddenly felt a sharp sting on the tip of his fingers.  Immediately releasing the burnt-out piece of paper from his hand, it fell to the floor and died, a small stream of smoke slithering from the burnt parchment.  Pippin was once again devoured by the shadow. 

Sighing, he realized there was nothing to do but wait, and perhaps pray for a savior though the chance of that seemed minuscule.  He flopped onto the dusty floor of the cave, and sighed deeply. 

Our hobbit was completely unaware of the two giant glowing eyes watching him from the back. 


	3. Follow the yellow (vegetable) road

**CHAPTER THREE:** Follow the yellow (vegetable) road

* * * 

It was the dawn of a new day. Birds cheered happily, filling the early morning atmosphere with song and mirth. The river nearby flowed with fresh clean water, sparkling in the new sunlight. Not a single cloud was seen in the sky, and all was perfect. 

Unfortunately, the hobbits slept right through this, though they planned on traveling at dawn to make good time. It was late afternoon by the time they woke, had lunch, and set off again in the Old Forest. 

"Do you think we'll see Elves on this journey, Mister Frodo?" Sam asked, out of the blue. 

"Who knows, Sam?  I sure hope so. I would love learn more about them," Frodo answered as he adjusted the heavy pack on his back. 

"Elves exist!?" Merry exclaimed. 

Frodo smiled at his friend's rather slow reaction. "Of course they do, they were the first on Middle-earth, after all!" 

"Blimey… I thought Bilbo was pulling my leg when he was telling those stories," Merry laughed. 

"As the old Gaffer used to say, _'Never misjudge the truth behind a story,'_ though I admit I had trouble believing them myself," Sam piped in. "If we meet Elves on this journey, I shall die the happiest hobbit." 

"Well, we can sure do without you dying after meeting Elves. We need all the help we can get," Frodo replied. 

And the casual banter between the three continued awhile. It seemed no more than a mere walk in the woods.  The fact that they were on a perilous adventure to save their friend from a dragon was pushed to a dark cobwebbed corner of their minds. 

Unfortunately, the fact that they did not know where to start searching for Pippin also failed to be brought up. They didn't even know if they were headed in the right direction; for all they knew, they could as well be heading straight for disaster themselves. It wasn't until Merry asked that infamous question that they began _thinking_ about their destination. 

"Are we there yet?" 

Frodo and Sam froze in their places, and exchanged curious glances. "Where is… _there_?" Sam asked him, scratching his head. 

He shrugged. "I thought you knew." 

"Well… no, I don't. I thought Merry knew, since he saw where the dragon went." Frodo and Sam turned to stare coldly at Merry, who backed up a step in reply. 

"How should I know where to go? Do I look like a dragon to you?" Merry shot back. 

"Well, now that you've brought it up–" Sam started. 

"Don't answer that." 

"…Sorry." 

Frodo sighed, flopped down onto a large stone, and proceeded to bury his face in his hands.  Merry joined him on the floor, taking off his pack and pulling out his pipe.  "What a predicament we've got ourselves into, eh?" he said as he lit the pipe, and took a long drag. 

A long silence fell in between the hobbits as they searched for a solution.  Merry refused to go home without Pippin by his side, preferably alive and healthy, and Frodo refused to give up in general being the determined chap he was.  Sam would follow Frodo wherever he went, so if Frodo stayed, it meant Sam would be right by his side with bells on.  Together, the three of them sat, and thought.  Hard. 

_This is hopeless,_ Frodo said to himself bitterly.  _Middle-earth is so huge.  A dragon's lair could be anywhere.  Pippin could be anywhere!_  Every solution he came up with resulted in failure.  Though he didn't want to give up so easily on his dear friend Pippin, he felt there was no other choice.  

Frodo opened his mouth to announce his defeat when a loud crunch interrupted his speech.  Frodo turned to Merry, who stared back at him innocently, the pipe dangling lifelessly from his mouth.  He turned to Sam, and wasn't surprised to see him with food in his hand and chomping on it merrily. 

What did surprise him was that Sam was eating corn, when they had not brought any along with them.  He did not remember corn as something his gardener had delayed the commencement of their journey to retrieve.  "Sam, where'd you get that ear of corn?" Frodo asked curiously. 

Remembering his manners, Sam did not speak while he chewed, but he pointed at the dirt to illustrate his point.  Frodo leapt to Sam's side, and stared off onto the path of the forest.  And to his surprise, there was something he would never have guessed right before him.  "There's a trail of… corn," he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. 

Merry cocked his head to the side, and shot up to join Frodo at his side.  Upon viewing the golden vegetables, he snapped his fingers as an illuminated light bulb appeared above his head.  "Of course, why hadn't I thought of that before!?"  He lifted his pack, and headed towards the path of scattered vegetables.  "The dragon picked up Pippin in a grasp of cornstalks! If it flew all the way to its home, there's no doubt that it would drop some corn on the way!" 

They had found a way to Pippin!  Merry's mood rose higher than Frodo in the Green Dragon on a Saturday night, and he felt there was nothing in the world that could knock him down now.  Leading the way with a pretty little prance in his step, he passed by Sam and gave him a pat on the head.  "Good job, Samwise.  Pippin, here we come!" 

Sam blinked, not exactly realizing what he had done.  But deciding that it was just best to nod and smile as it always was, he stood up, brushed the dirt off his clothes, and joined Frodo and Merry once more on their voyage. 

* * * 

Pippin felt extremely insecure by himself in the darkness of the cave.  He was rarely alone even in the Shire, always accompanied by either Merry or another hobbit.  He dared not move, in fear of what may lurk in the shadows of the foreign place. He knew that some_thing_ was in there with him, but he was too afraid to find out what. 

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, his eyes darted around nervously out of habit.  It wasn't as if he could see anything though; all was consumed by the darkness, everything before him was pitch black.  Because of the echoes, everything seemed five times as frightening.  Even a slight shuffle to keep his leg from falling asleep could make enough racket to wake the dead.  When his stomach growled hungrily, Pippin winced at the sound of the echoes that followed. 

But then, he realized that it wasn't his stomach that growled.  No, it was a much more fierce growl… one of an angry beast. As if on cue, he suddenly felt a hot breath against the back of his neck.  His heart began pounding so quick that the hobbit feared that it would leap right from his chest.  He shivered, despite the sweltering heat of the cave he was trapped in.   Slowly and reluctantly, Pippin turned around, terrified of what he was about to confront. 

Two giant glowing eyes met his own.  All his limbs froze in fear as flames appeared before him from seemingly nowhere, momentarily illuminating his surroundings. It provided light for mere seconds, but that was more than enough for Pippin to see that the flames emerged from the two nostrils of an enormous red dragon, giving him a familiar evil grin. 

And all became dark again, the flames disappearing as quickly as they came. Pippin began mentally running through his options, but was disappointed to find that none of them lead to him escaping alive. To run would be pure folly; where would he go if he could not even see his hands before him?  He would most likely run straight into the awaiting jaws of the dragon, with his luck.  However, his other option was no better; to stay would only ensure the dragon a hearty meal of a hobbit. 

Reaching into his pockets out of desperateness, he searched them frantically for something, _anything_ that could be of use.  At times like these, even the smallest trinket could stand between life and death.  In his right pocket was the flint and tinder he had used earlier, and in his left… 

Much to his surprise, his left pocket was indeed not empty.  There was a smooth round object he had not expected to find. It was then that he remembered Merry had slipped it to him while they were still in Farmer Maggot's crops before this whole incident. 

Taking a deep breath and hoping it was not going to be his last, he pulled the rather large object from his pocket and held it out to the dragon.  Giving a great big smirk, he offered it to the dragon as a gift. 

"…Apple?"


	4. The crow with the shifty eyes

**CHAPTER FOUR:** The crow with the shifty eyes 

* * * 

Merry whistled a happy little tune as they journeyed down the path of yellow vegetables.  His mood was quite happy and gleeful, and he felt there was absolutely nothing that could bring him down.   Sam, however, felt completely different.  He would jump at ever sound picked up by his sharp ears, shiver at every cool wind.  He had every right to feel nervous, for the forest became fairly thicker, the animals rather meaner, and the shadows relatively creepier as they traveled.

Unfortunately, none seemed to notice the fact that the trail of vegetables became more and more scarce the further they traveled. 

"I don't like this one bit, Mister Frodo," Sam muttered quietly, eyeing a queer looking fox at the side of their twisted little path. "We are beginning to travel deeper into the forest. The animals are _staring_." 

"Let them stare; they do us no harm," Frodo reassured, but truth be told, he was even more edgy than Sam. Perhaps he was delusional from fear at the time, but the hobbit absolutely swore that he saw a tree glower at them as they crossed. 

Sam shook his head, knowing better than to ignore his instincts.  To do so often brought dire consequences.  "I don't like this one bit. And as the old Gaffer used to say, _'Trust an animal with shifty eyes, and it'll be the ends of you, Samwise.'_ There'd be plenty of shifty-eyed animals spotted here, yessiree." 

A snort from Merry was his reply. "Codswallop, Sam!" he laughed, determined not to let anything ruin his perfectly good mood. "Animals are our friends!" 

"The only good animal is one served on a plate, with garlic and plenty of butter," Frodo grinned jokingly. His witty remark was responded by a loud protest from his stomach, reminding him that he had slept through second breakfast that morning. Pushing the hunger aside (they were quickly running low on rations), he took a deep breath and continued on as if nothing happened. 

Still unconvinced, Sam frowned. "I don't know, Merry. That crow over there's been shifty-eyed at us for a long time now. Something tells me he's up to no good." Bravely, he glared back at the black bird perched on a gnarled tree. The crow cawed at him mockingly. 

"But birds don't shift their eyes," Merry pointed out. 

The crow blinked and flew away after Merry's comment, almost as if it understood. "Ah, but that's what they make you think," Sam returned his attention to Merry. He narrowed his eyes to slits before he spoke, "Beware!  Just when you're not looking, BAM! The smarmy weasel has you right where it wants you." 

Merry raised an eyebrow, allowing Sam to continue. 

The hobbit lowered his voice considerably. "It'll be the ends of you, Meriadoc Brandybuck. It'll be the ends of you," he warned. 

The creepy tone earned him a strange stare. "You're a rather queer one, Sam," Merry said. 

"I'm cautious," he corrected as-a-matter-of-factly. "There's a difference." 

Merry's argument was cut off rudely by a loud shriek in the air. The two stopped arguing long enough to see Frodo with that deer-in-the-headlights look he was so famous for, running ahead of them in frenzy. The hobbit waved his hands in the air like a madman, while poor Sam and Merry pondered on what to think of it. 

A flock of crows fluttered off when they saw the mad hobbit approaching, each with an ear of corn in their claws. Frodo stopped abruptly, turned around and faced the two of them staring. "Fools! The crows have taken off with the remains of our corn trail!" 

"Impossible!" Merry exclaimed, running beside Frodo. True enough, there was no sight of vegetables as far as they could see. Just when he thought things were going to be smooth.

Shaking his head in disbelief and disappointment, he sighed deeply and flopped down on the floor once more. Again, he had lost all hope for his friend. This journey was beginning to grow tiresome.

In spite of the situation, Sam couldn't hide the growing grin on his face. "_ 'Trust an animal with shifty eyes–' "_

"Shut up, Sam," both Frodo and Merry shot back. 

* * * 

A long silence passed, and Pippin dared not move even when the two glaring eyes disappeared from his sight. He heard shuffling, loud rumbling, some snapping and cracking, and then all was silent once more. Pippin was growing increasingly weary of being robbed of his sight. Though being temporarily blind did sharpen his other senses, he still longed for the moment he would be able to see dangers before they approach him. 

His wish was granted.  A crackling inferno blazed before him, setting a pile of dry brush alight. Light filled the dark cave once more, and Pippin was relieved. He blinked a few times to adjust his vision, but his relief quickly dissolved away when he saw the red dragon standing before him as tall as a tower. 

The dragon stood a good few stories higher than the little hobbit, glaring down at him as if Pippin were but an insect.  The poor hobbit could not tell if it were hungry, or merely curious at the intruder, but judging from the glint of annoyance seen in his eyes, Pippin could clearly tell that he was not a wanted visitor in the cave.

Without hesitating, the dragon snapped at Pippin faster than the hobbit's eyes could catch.  He blinked as his heart skipped a beat, and then opened his eyes to see that he was still standing.  Breathing a sigh of relief because his head was still intact with his neck and body, Pippin dared to face the creature again.

Snapping at Pippin was a mere warning from the dragon.  Clearly, he was not welcomed.  The hobbit screamed when the beast lunged towards him, baring its teeth the size of Pippin himself.  Spinning around, the Took ran for his life in sheer panic.  Thundering from the giant beast's footsteps made the insides of the cave shake violently, the loose crumbles tumbling from their nests and onto the ground.

What happened next was purely luck.  From the far, far distance, Pippin spotted a small glint of light.  It was the entrance, or in this case, the exit, to the cave.  His heart would have jumped for joy, if it were not pounding from terror at the moment.  Gathering all his remaining strength, he pushed away all his doubts and cleared his mind to run towards the light.  

With each step the dragon took, the earth would quake fiercely.  More and more rocks tumbled to the ground, each one bigger than the last.  Pippin realized that he needed to escape the cave fast.  It was quickly falling apart from the disturbance, and would remain safe no longer.  Dust blocked his vision and filled his eyes with tears, but he ignored them as best as he could.  The only thing in his mind was the light before him, growing closer and closer with every second.

Right behind him, he heard large boulders collapse onto the floor of the cave noisily.  It was ready to crumble to pieces any moment; there wasn't a breath to waste.  The exit was a step away.  Pippin sprinted as fast as his legs could take him, and leapt out into the open.  Fresh air filled his lungs immediately as the hobbit tumbled onto the soft grass, relief charging through his every limb.

But he was not out of trouble just yet.  He turned to lie on his back when he suddenly remembered that there was still a dragon on his heels.  How could he have been so folly to forget such a fact?  Quickly sitting up, the Took soon realized it was too late.  The red beast was still running towards him, his grin replaced with a snarl of disgust.   

The dragon opened its large jaws and lunged towards Pippin, ready to devour the poor hobbit whole.  In reflex, Pippin turned and fruitlessly shielded his body with his arms, in his mind saying farewell to his family and friends.  "The multi-chaptered story of Peregrin Took ends here," he mumbled as he squeezed his eyes shut awaiting his fate.

A loud roar rang in his ears, and then more crashing and shattering.  A long moment passed, and Pippin coughed in reaction to the dust that was stirred up.  Then, he paused.  "If I am dead, why am I coughing?" he pondered aloud as he slowly opened one eye, then the other.  

Blinking vacantly for a long while, Pippin let his thoughts overtake himself.  He placed his hands before his view and turned them, just to check if he had become a spirit of some sort.  He hadn't; he was still fortunately whole.  Subconsciously patting his body down to check for injuries, Pippin felt like leaping up in the air in joy.  "By the magic mushrooms of the Shire, I am alive!" he exclaimed, grinning like a fool.  

But he was not so sure that the same could be said for the beast.  Pippin's heart stopped when he saw the dragon in front of him, his head rested on the ground and its face scrunched up as in a great deal of pain.  Piled on top of the beast's body from the head down were heaps and mounds of rocks, all shapes and sizes.  The cave had crashed onto the beast, wounding if not killing it.  

Though the dragon wanted to eat him as a small snack previously, Pippin felt a great amount of pity for the creature.  After all, it was he who had entered the beast's home, though it was unintentional.  And he was merely food to the dragon.  There were no feelings of hatred involved.

What he did next, Pippin could not explain.  Slowly and cautiously, the hobbit approached the laying beast.  It was still alive.  Its hot breath could still be felt on Pippin's bare skin as he drew nearer.  He stared at the dragon for the longest time, watching its body rise up and down, and its nostrils flare with every struggled breath.  Slowly, Pippin reached out with a steady hand to the snout of the dragon.

He knew better than to act out of curiosity, but then again mischief was his middle name; he felt it necessary to live up to that title.  When his hand made contact with the hard, leathery skin, he felt slightly relieved that the fiery creature did not snap off his hand upon touch.  In fact, he was quite surprised that he was doing this in the first place.

"How are you doing?" he asked, smiling to the dragon.  

It opened one eye slightly in reaction to the question.  A small groan escaped its mouth.

"I wish I can say that I know how you feel, but I've never had a cave collapse on me before," Pippin laughed.  It felt good to be talking to someone again, even though he wasn't sure if the dragon even understood what was being said to him.  

The dragon closed its eye again, and sighed.

Pippin's heart wept for the creature.  It was a sad sight to see such a rare and magnificent animal pass away right before him.  And what the hobbit did next surprised even himself.  He sat down right next to the head of the beast, patted him on the side gently, and smiled.  "Don't you worry your ferocious little head off.  Pip' won't let you down," he reassured.

Then, to himself, he sighed.  Truth be told, he had no idea how to save the beast himself.

* * *

_SHOUTS!_

_Talking Hawk: I think voyage works for land too... hopefully.  But if it bugs you too much, I'll change it to "trip" or something else... :) Thank you for the image of the hobbits linking arms and skipping... never thought of it that way, but it sure brought a smile to my face._

_????: Thank you, thank you... I'm not a class clown, but I DO go to clown college.  ;)_

_Pilot3001: Don't we all love Sam?_

_chloe and friends: The dragon eating Pippin is a possibility, but I think its more likely that Pippin eats the dragon._

_Cheysuli: The hobbits are young, before they came of age... 20something?  Never paid too much attention to nit-picky details like these... I guess I should have, eh?_

_Adrienne D: Poor Pippin indeed!  I wouldn't feel safe with Sam, Frodo, and Merry as my saviours either..._

_Anodien: Pippin IS cute, or at least I think so!  I can listen to him talk with that accent all day..._

_Pip Morgan and Race skylark: Will do!  Thanks for reviewing._

_Darth Flirt: Awesome s/n.  The "special mushrooms" line was given by my English teacher, who asked me that same question.  Like I said... clown college.  Sigh.___


	5. Samwise the Doggit

**CHAPTER FIVE:** Samwise the Doggit

* * * 

It seemed like forever since they had left the Shire, trudged their way through the forest only to find themselves hopelessly lost because of shifty-eyed animals. They wouldn't hear the ends of the _I-told-you-so's_ from Sam if Merry hadn't threatened to sock him in the face if he wouldn't hold his tongue. 

But alas, Sam had enough troubles to deal with even without Merry's threat. 

The poor hobbit had caught a mysterious disease, and was sick to the point of being delusional.  Frodo had complained unceasingly about this, for the sickness did not only affect Sam, but the ones around him also.  Many nights now had he woken Frodo from his sleep, barking and panting like a faithful dog.  But when mornings came, he became perfectly normal once more, save the constant sneezing and a bad case of sniffles. 

For the first few nights, Merry found this quite amusing. He had even managed to teach Sam to roll over and play dead, and Sam would awake the next day with no memory of his actions at all. But when Frodo realized that Samwise the puppy was not housebroken (how he found out was an unfortunate accident), he was more determined than ever to find a cure for the strange illness. 

Unfortunately, no matter what they tried, Sam would not be cured. It seemed as if there was no remedy to this awful disease at all!  Luckily for them, it was one night just when Frodo and Merry had seemingly given up all hope; an answer presented itself right before them. 

Frodo was ready to put out the fire for the night, Merry was puffing away at his pipe in deep thought, and Sam was obediently asleep by the commands of his masters. "Do you think he's alive?" Merry asked quietly, watching the flames die slowly before him. 

"Sam? Of course he's alive," Frodo replied, catching a quick glance at his friend. He wasn't at all surprised to see the hobbit curled up in a ball, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth with a silly grin donned on his face. 

"No, not Sam… I know he's alive. I meant Pippin," Merry said. 

"Oh." Frodo turned away and began shaking out his blanket. "Of course he's alive. Pippin's a tough one, he'll be alright." 

He didn't hear a reply for his comment, but Frodo paid no heed to that. Letting out a sigh of relief because Merry appear to have caught his hesitation to answer the question, he slowly laid down his blanket (a safe distance away from Sam, just in case). Frodo sat on the blanket cross-legged, propped his elbow against his knee and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. 

To his surprise, he heard a soft, melodic voice filled the air. Frodo welcomed the song in the glum environment, his spirits already lifting from hearing the tune. He did not hear the words, but the melody alone was pleasing to the ear. 

"Merry, I didn't know you could sing like that," the hobbit complimented without turning around. 

"I'm not singing…" Merry raised his eyebrow. "I thought you were." 

Frodo stole another glance at Sam, who was still resting peacefully. "Well, Sam's not singing… if it's not me, you, or Sam…" he trailed off towards the end of the sentence, almost afraid of his answer.  There was someone else.  "Merry, go check it out." 

"I'm not moving!" he persisted, crossing his arms strictly across his chest. 

"Fine, let us both wait for our deaths to arrive," Frodo snapped. 

Merry frowned. "Why can't you go at least see who it is?" 

"Because I have to stay here and see to Sam!" 

"Sam can take care of himself." 

"Not as a dog-hobbit." 

"Doggits are the most independent creatures on Middle Earth!" 

That comment earned Frodo a strange glare from the Brandybuck. "You just made that up. There's no such thing as a _Doggit_," he pointed out, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. 

"Of course there is; Sam is living proof. He's a Doggit. Look at him!" Frodo exclaimed, subconsciously pointing at his friend. Merry sent a quick glance at the hobbit, only to find that he wasn't there.  A bundled up blanket was in place of where Sam laid, but nothing else was there.  Pushing Frodo aside, Merry stepped forward and scanned his surroundings for any signs of the missing hobbit ending in vain. 

"Where's Sam?!" Merry panicked as images of what could have happened to the Doggit flooded his mind. They began frantically searching the camp with no prevail. No trails, no markings, nothing. 

"He was here but a moment ago!" Frodo began hyperventilating.  It was impossible, there was no way anyone could have escaped from his sight that fast.  He couldn't afford to lose another friend now. 

"Don't panic, Frodo. We'll think of something," Merry reassured, though the hobbit wasn't all that confident himself. 

Frodo wrinkled his forehead as he searched his thoughts for a solution. What should he do? What would Sam do? "Well… If Sam was here he would say, _'Gee, there's a logical solution to this. As the old Gaffer would say to me, if you wanted to find a Doggit, think like a Doggit.'_" 

Raising his eyebrows, Merry smirked. "Did the Gaffer really say that?" 

"No. I just made that up. I figured he'd say something like that; his mind is a one-way track anyway. But resuming back to the search.  If you were Samwise the Doggit, where would you go?" 

"To the Gaffer's," Merry replied without thinking. 

"No, that's where Samwise the _hobbit_ would go. Think like a Doggit, Meriadoc. A Doggit!" 

Merry sighed, and scratched his head automatically.  He had never seen a Doggit before until this journey, how was he to know?  "To… to a tree," he blurted out after much deliberation. 

"You stupid Brandybuck.  We're in a forest!" Frodo threw his hands in the air in defeat. "There's trees everywhere, why would Sam seek one now?" 

"Well, have you any better ideas?" Merry snapped back. 

"Yes… but they have yet to come to me." Both hobbits sighed, and continued their brainstorming. Frodo began pacing back and forth in frustration, determined to find his friend before something horrid happens. "Lets see… Hobbits like food. Dogs like… trees. Therefore, a Doggit would much appreciate… a food tree." 

"No, Hobbits like mushrooms. Dogs like trees… so a Doggit would be found near a mushroom tree!" Merry corrected. 

"Mushrooms don't grow on trees, halfwit." 

"Then let us just find a patch of mushrooms. If Sam is not found there, then at least we have found mushrooms." 

Frodo needn't think twice about that suggestion.  "Agreed." 

With that, both hobbits turned around, ready to search for their missing friend. Unfortunately, as soon as Frodo spun around, he found himself face to face with a belt buckle. Gulping as his eyes slowly made his way up, he saw the face of a stranger glaring down at him. 

And then, Frodo fainted, with Merry's alarmed voice ringing in his head as the last thing he heard. 

* * * 

Pippin was truly glad to see the sun once again after being trapped in a stuffy cave for what seemed like forever, though the sun was beginning to set by then.  He felt completely relieved and free, and could not recall one time where he was happier.  However, his joy quickly left him as it was replaced with utter confusion.  The first thing that popped into his mind right at the first breath of fresh air was, "Where am I?" 

Spinning around in a complete circle to observe the new environment, all he could conclude was that he in a very mountainous area littered with shrubs, bushes and other various vegetation.  He never had strayed far from the Shire before, so the outer lands were foreign to him.  Only one thing was clear: he wanted to go home to his humble little hobbit hole.

It was too bad he knew that his wish would not come true anytime soon.  Deciding to make the best of things, Pippin headed back towards the fallen dragon.  Once the dust that the collapsed cave stirred had settled nicely, the hobbit immediately began lifting the rocks that weighed down on the dragon's body.

It was awkwardly soundless as Pippin tried to dig out the creature from the ruble.  Being a sociable hobbit, he never did like spending long periods of time silent, even if many other hobbits disliked him for this characteristic.  No matter who told him that he was a great waste of air, Pippin would not let it get to him.  Though there was nothing in particular Pippin could discuss (and no one with whom he could discuss), he decided to speak anyway for the sake of hearing his own comforting voice.  

"Sorry for all the trouble," Pippin apologized sincerely as he dug through the rocks.  "If I had known that this was going to happen, I never would have run from you."

He paused to think about what he just said, realizing the absurdity of his sentence.  "Well, I would have run, because I personally didn't want my life to end in some creature's stomach.  But maybe I would have chosen a different direction?" 

The dragon's eyes were still squeezed shut, but Pippin swore he heard it snort in reply. 

Grunting as he lifted a rather large boulder and then tossing it to the side, Pippin continued speaking.  "Then again, heading towards the exit would be the most logical solution to escape.  Since I couldn't see in the cave anyway, I wouldn't have headed deeper into it, so really there was only one way to go."

Groaning, the beast opened one eye and fixed it upon the hobbit.

"You ARE alive!  Am I ever happy!" Pippin exclaimed, and then hesitated again as he scratched his head.  "But should I be?  After all, you wanted to devour me whole."

It grunted.

"Well, no matter.  You didn't succeed, much to my relief," Pippin smiled as he patted the creature on the head giddily.  The dragon didn't seem to appreciate that too much, since it is not often that a dragon is treated like a pet.  Fortunately for Pippin, he did nothing about it.  

"Oh well," the hobbit laughed.  "Now I can go back home and tell everyone that I've met a dragon!  And you can say that you've met a good ol' half-ling… given that you don't eat me after I get you out of this mess."  Pippin gave the creature a long look and an uneasy smile.  

As a reply, the dragon merely closed its eye again and turned away. 

"Ok, we'll deal with that matter after," Pippin nodded as he continued his labour, whistling away.  It wasn't long before his main source of light retired beyond the hills, and all was overtaken by shadows again.  There were no stars in the sky tonight, not even the moon showed its shining face.

Beads of sweat were dripping down Pippin's forehead; the labour was finally getting to him.  Most of the larger boulders had been removed save a few, and the dragon did not open his eyes since that one time.  The hobbit could still hear his heavy breathing, and assumed that it was merely resting.  

Flopping down on the dirt in exhaustion, Pippin suddenly found himself wishing for a nice warm fire to curl up next to.  True, he was sweating heavily from the physical exercise, but the cool night air was chilly as it brushed upon his skin.  He knew that he would be shivering in no time.  

Standing up again, Pippin took his time to gather dry firewood in attempt to start a fire.  He figured if the smoke were to attract unwanted visitors, he would at least have a dragon here to protect him.  And even if the dragon were still not awake when danger approached, the mere sight of the creature would be able to send any animal fleeing.  

When a reasonable amount was collected, Pippin gathered the wood into a small mound.  He reached into his pocket for his flint, and was incredibly angry when he found that he had none.  Apparently, he had lost it a while ago, perhaps when he had leapt out of the cave before it collapsed.  Pippin sighed and flopped down on the floor once more cross-legged, and frowned as he stared at the meager pile of firewood before him.  Today just wasn't his day.

Of course, he could always try the oldest trick in the book: rubbing two sticks together.  The friction theoretically would create sparks, then fire… or something like that.  The Took never paid attention to his father's teachings anyway, but now he wish he had.  Pippin's eyes drifted over to the dragon, which seemed to be resting quite peacefully despite the pile of rubble stacked upon his body.  It was then that a better idea popped abruptly into his mind, a light bulb lighting above his head.  

Making his way over to the beast, he pondered on his decision.  His idea seemed like a bright one, but then again so did robbing Farmer Maggot's crops.  Pippin wasn't too happy with the result of that.  However, there didn't seem to be any other choice.  

Finally gathering all his courage and proceeding with his idea, Pippin poked the large snout of the dragon in attempt to awake the beast.  When it gave no reply, the hobbit frowned and poked harder.  

Success.  The dragon opened one eye slightly, and gave a look of great annoyance at the hobbit.  It scowled, as if ordering Pippin to leave him be.  Unfortunately, the Took was stubborn and refused to obey.  "Hey, how about lending me a hand here?" he whispered.

The dragon closed its eyes, entirely ignoring his company.

Pippin crossed his arms.  "Well, that's dandy.  I may have caused you this trouble, but at least I gave a try to make you more comfortable.  And this is what I get?"

There was no answer from the giant creature, much to Pippin's disappointment.  "I saw you breathe fire like you were made from it," he continued to request, not allowing himself to give up so easily.  "All I ask is that you set that little pile of firewood alight.  A little warmth will do us both good."

Finally at the ends of his patience, the beast opened both his eyes and stared angrily at the hobbit for disturbing him.  Pippin wasn't aware of the obvious signs of beast's irritation, so he dangerously resumed his rant seemingly without end.

"And good morrow to you too, sunshine," Pippin spat.  "All I ask is for a little flame.  Is that so hard for you to provide?  After all, you _are_ a fire-breathing dragon."

The red beast snarled, baring his yellow jagged teeth.

"Don't you dare try that trick on me again, I know you're hurt right now and you can't do anything to me.  So help me, help you," Pippin snubbed his nose towards the sky with an air of superiority he had never felt before.  "Help me, help you."

Even before Pippin was able to finish his sentence, two large blazes of fire shot out of the beast's nostrils.  Unfortunately for the hobbit, he stood right in front of the dragon's snout when he was speaking.  With his thankfully quick reflexes, Pippin leapt out of danger, but disappointingly he wasn't fast enough.  A small flicker caught grasp onto his jacket, consuming it hungrily.  

He screamed as he felt the hot grasp of the licking flames growing larger and larger on his back.  Dropping onto the ground and rolling about, the flames were soon diminished much to Pippin's relief.  He stayed lying on the dusty ground for a while, panting heavily.  The only sounds were of the cackling of the firewood in the playful flames, laughing happily at Pippin.

The hobbit lifted his head to see the dragon chuckling silently to himself.  Pippin frowned and got up slowly.  "Very funny, Mister Dragon," he retorted sarcastically.  His bitterness soon disappeared when he caught sight of the glowing fire before him, the warmth surprisingly welcoming.  

"If I weren't so tired, I would have poked your eyes out and fed them to the crows," he threatened as he made his way back to the laughing dragon, sat down right beside it and leaned back.  "Speaking of tired," Pippin said in between a yawn.  "It's getting late."

The dragon stared at Pippin, who was resting comfortably (and unknowingly) against its neck.

"I'm going to sleep.  Don't you try some funny business on me, I have friends in high places that eat dragons like you for afternoon tea," he warned, and promptly fell asleep right after.

Blinking at the unusual sight, the beast wondered what fate sent him this creature with which he was forced to deal.  Sure, he had dealt with other beings before, but this one was a lot… more unusual than the rest.  Deciding that he rather enjoyed his company, it settled on not killing this stranger as it did the others.  This one seemed different, and could be quite amusing when the time came.

Resting its head and closing its eyes once more, both hobbit and dragon slept peacefully that night.


	6. While Frodo was out cold

**CHAPTER SIX: **While Frodo was out cold

* * *

When Frodo awoke again, it was the next day well past late afternoon.  The sun was getting ready to disappear behind the distant mountains, to be overtaken by the glorious moon.  The hobbit could not remember anything that happened that last day, and did not even bother to try.  

Sitting up and running a hand through his unruly hair, he saw Merry sitting in front of him with Sam, a grumpy frown donned on his face as he puffed angrily on the pipe.  The poor gardener seemed in a foul mood, a scowl etched on his face that Frodo never knew existed.  "What happened?" he asked, slightly afraid of the answer that was to come.  

Happy to see that he was awake, Merry answered while smiling, "What do you remember?"    
  


Frodo scratched the back of his head absentmindedly.  Everything was a big blur to him; he wasn't even sure of his own name.  _Frodo, son of Drugo—no, Drogo, of the Shire_, he repeated to himself, just in case.  It sounded correct.  Unfortunately, though his name and where he hailed was clear, he was still not sure of why he was unconscious while Sam and Merry were awake.  "I don't remember enough, however something about a dog comes to mind," he answered groggily. 

Sam threw down his pipe, gave a rather loud 'hrmmph,' shot up from his seat and stormed away.  It earned him a strange look from Frodo, who had absolutely no clue why he would be mad.  The mystery was beginning to eat at him.

"That dog would be Sam," Merry continued, picking up Sam's pipe and taking a long drag of it.  No point in wasting perfectly good pipeweed.  "It turns out he had a disease common in these parts of the woods.  Dogflu, I believe it was called."

It was beginning to come back to his memory now.  The hobbit squinted, as if he could see the past before his eyes.  "Yes… I remember now," Frodo nodded, scratching his chin subconsciously.  They were on a quest to save their friend, and then he had passed out along the way at the sight of a stranger.  "And who was the tall fellow who came to us?"

"The one of which you fainted upon the sight?"  Merry smirked upon the memory.  "That, my dear Baggins, was an elf."

That specific detail he could not recall.  "An elf!?" Frodo exclaimed, now fully awake and alert, his eyes as wide as saucers.  

"An ELF!" a distant voice screamed angrily.  Both hobbits easily identified it as Sam, but only Merry knew why he was fuming about the subject.  Rubbing his hands together, Merry cleared his throat and prepared to retell the events to Frodo, with every grueling detail included.

"When we turned around to search for Sam and/or mushrooms, you ran into a stranger.  As soon as you looked up, you fainted because you were never accustomed to seeing races outside of hobbits.  I suppose the height of the newcomer frightened you.  That was an elf.  

So after you fainted I stood there still, jaw dropped to the floor for I had never before seen an elf, either.  I suppose he has never before seen a hobbit either, because he gave me a look.  A rather queer one at that.  Then, two more elves appeared from behind him, as tall and proud as the last.  All had long blonde hair that shone like the sunshine, eyes like diamonds if I recall clearly. 

The first elf lifted his arm and to my surprise, he held Sam by his collar.  The poor hobbit looked frightened to death suspended in the air like that, but then again he was still delirious at that time.  

'Does this belong to you?' he asked me, smirking.  I suppose he found it incredibly amusing to see a hobbit prance around on all fours barking and panting.

I couldn't find the words to speak, so I merely nodded.  The elf put him down and Sam ran his way back to me, hiding behind my two legs as frightened as a little puppy dog.  Well, that's because he was a little puppy dog, technically.  Anyway, as soon as I figured out how to speak again, I requested their names.

Then, he bowed low and introduced himself as a name I couldn't pronounce… but I'm sure it was something like _Illiciatherionathil_, perhaps even lengthier.  Elvish names, they're hard to say!  The other two introduced themselves also, but their names were even longer and more difficult to pronounce than the last, but quite pleasant to the ear if you ask me.  It sounded like music as they spoke, which reminds me I left my flute at home, which is quite unfortunate because I could sure use some music now.  Not that many people appreciate my flute skills–"

"Meriadoc!" Frodo interrupted rudely.  

The hobbit blinked as he snapped out of his thoughts.  "Yes, Frodo?"

"The story.  Get back to the story."

Finally realizing that he had gone off topic after a few moments, Merry quickly resumed.  "Anyway, they introduced themselves and I introduced us, seeing that Sam was not himself and you were unconscious.  The first elf was awfully curious about Sam.

'Your friend is acting like a canine,' he pointed out as Sam, behind me, bared his teeth in defense and growled at the elf.

Of course, I already knew that, so I merely sighed and nodded as I gave Sam a pat on the head.  He then explained to me all about the Dogflu, and gave me some herbs he coincidentally carried, used to treat it.  I'm supposed to make it into a tea, and have Sam drink it twice a day.  

I immediately made some for Sam, and he lapped it up like it was the best thing he ever had.  Then, he fell asleep like rock.

Now that he was out of my hands, I saw an opportunity to learn more about the elves.  I couldn't hold back my burning curiosity.  'What is your purpose in these woods?' I questioned, hoping not to sound too intruding.

Luckily, he did not think that I was, or not that I know of.  'We are elven healers.  We were sent to scavenge for certain herbs and plants only found in this forest,' he replied.  'May I ask the same for you, Master Hobbit?' 

Perhaps it was not the best thing to do, but I explained to him our dilemma with the dragon and Pippin.  Immediately they had this queer face on the mention of the dragon.  Apparently, they are not at good terms with the red beast.  He did not explain their reason for I was cut off before asking.

'If you positively wish to visit this vile creature, he currently resides in the Ettenmoors, north of Rivendell.  But do not have high hopes for your friend; if the dragon knows of his existence, then he would not be alive now.'

Of course, then I told him how we must find Pippin dead or alive, because only then will we truly be at peace, when we know what happened to him.  He smiled and told me how lucky he is to have such faithful friends, but I heard one of the other elves mutter underneath his breath something like 'foolish hobbit,' but I'm not sure.  

Anyway, we talked for a long time, but the elves left pretty soon after since they still needed to search for those herbs.  They left with these words of warning: 'Beware the Old Forest, for nothing is as they seem.'

I knew that already, because of the crows with shifty-eyes.  And the Dogflu.  But I nodded, thankful for their advice anyway.  And so they left, after saying something like '_Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo._' "

"A star shines upon our meeting," Frodo translated, looking away in disappointment.  He thanked Merry for filling him in, but was mentally kicking himself for having the same amount of courage as a trampled weed.  Alas, he had fainted just when he was to encounter an elf.  Oh how he had wanted to meet one!  

But then, Sam had it worse.  He was the one who was also all giddy about the possibility of meeting elves on their journey, and unfortunately when the time arrived he had the mentality of a puppy.  As a side effect of the herbs, the hobbit remembered nothing of the period he spent on all fours with his tongue hanging at the side of his mouth, which clearly explained his frustration for the moment.

"The devilry!" they heard Sam exclaim from a distance hidden behind the trees and bushes.  "The Gaffer warned me _'the higher you hope, the harder you fall.'  _Alas!  My filthy, horrendous, improvident luck!  The equivalent of horse feces– no, the maggots and flies that feed off the horse feces!!  The wretched misfortune that is I!  What the flying f–"

"Samwise!" Frodo retorted, interrupting the fuming Sam.  "Your language burns my virgin ears!"

The rage of Sam ceased for the moment, but the two hobbits could still hear quiet mumbling and grumbling in the background.  Frodo and Merry exchanged looks, and sighed simultaneously.  

To fill the awkward silence that was to follow, Merry suggested abruptly, "Now that we're all awake and we actually have a clue on where to go, how about we start moving?" 

Frodo looked up at the sky and could see the bright moonlight peeping through the leaves of the trees.  "We _are_ rather behind schedule," he admitted.  "Let us be off, assuming we are all well rested."  He gave Merry a questioning look, just in case.

"I've been smoking the whole time you were unconscious; I'm as high as a kite right now.  I can run to Rivendell and back, and still have extra energy to raid Farmer Maggot's crops," Merry explained.  

"So you know the way to Rivendell?" Frodo asked.

Merry hesitated, smiling sheepishly.  "No, I was hoping you did.  You know more about elves than I do."

"That doesn't mean I know the way to get to their home," Frodo frowned, disappointed.  He turned around and shouted off into the distance, "Sam!  Have you a map?"

A quiet rustling in the bushes followed, and a far away reply answered, "No!"

Frodo slapped his forehead in frustration.  They knew where they were going to head, but the only problem that stood before them was the exact location of their destination.  Fortunately, this was a mere setback, because Merry found a solution to this almost immediately after the problem was introduced.  "Let us go to Bree and work our way up.  I hear there are a few friendly hobbits that currently live there."

Sighing in relief, Frodo felt his stress disappear once again.  "Excellent," he laughed as he began packing up his possessions.  He looked up momentarily and called, "Sam!  We are off!  Show yourself!"

When no reply came, Merry and Frodo exchanged nervous looks.  "Sam?" he called again.

The second time was unsuccessful as well, and the two hobbits were beginning to worry.  What if the herbs have worn off, and the Doggit had run off once again?  They knew that they would not be as lucky as they were the first time.

All of a sudden, leaping out of the bushes was a tiny little squirrel, running for its dear life.  It squeaked for help as it darted by, disappearing into more bushes on the other side.  Then, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, Sam chased after the poor creature, hands outstretched and tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.  "Sqquuuuuiiiirrrrreeeelll!" he squealed happily as he bolted by after it.

Merry grinned.  "There are some incurable symptoms of the Dogflu," he explained to the confused Frodo.  "Sam now has the keen senses as a canine, as well as the irresistible urge to chase small mammals such as rats, birds… and squirrels."

Frodo rolled his eyes.  "Is that all?" he asked.

The hobbit shrugged as he watched the squirrel, tailed closely by Sam, run by once more.  "There are probably others of which I was not told, but I'm sure that we'll find them out soon."

As Sam ran by the third time, Frodo reached out and caught the hobbit by the hood of his cloak before he could run away again.  Sam choked from the force the cloak around his neck, jerked backwards and fell flat on his back.  "Gah– Mister Frodo!  I didn't notice you there, I'm sorry," he apologized as he stood up and brushed the dirt off himself.  

"It is quite all right, Sam," Frodo smiled.  "Now pack your bags.  We're continuing our search for Pippin tonight."

* * *

Pippin awoke with the sun shining directly over him, the warmth wrapping him like a thick blanket.  He yawned lazily, stretching his limbs like a morning cat.  Lying on the ground, he could not remember the last time he had a sleep as comfortable and satisfying as that.

As soon as he got up, he realized that he was not at home in his comfy little bed, in his homely little hobbit hole, in the friendly little Shire.  No, he was nowhere near that.  An angered frown set on his face as the reality hit him, and the events of the past came back to his mind.  

Ah yes, he was in the middle of nowhere with a dragon.  

"The dragon!" Pippin exclaimed in the middle of the thoughts, and turned his head around to search for the creature.  A pile of rocks lay where the entrance of the cave had collapsed, but there was no beast about.  A large shape of the dragon's body was heavily imprinted in the dirt where Pippin last remembered it lay.

And leading away from the imprint were several more, but they were of large footprints.  Pippin blinked, and slowly pushed himself up as he examined the prints embedded on the grass and dirt.  Following them closely out of interest, the hobbit wandered about the tracks until they shortly came to an abrupt end.

The tracks suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere.  The hobbit sighed, and looked up into the sky as a fruitless search for the beast.  "Oh well, never did like the chap too much anyway," he shrugged as he continued wandering around aimlessly.  There was no point heading back to the campsite, he had left nothing there anyway.   

And so, our lost hero moseyed about, trying hard to keep thoughts of sizzling bacon and plump juicy hams from his mind.  "If I reach home, I'm going to have a big celebration feast," Pippin told himself aloud.  

He paused to think, then shook his head.  "_When _I reach home, I'm going to have a big celebration feast," he corrected.  "With hearty stews garnished with tasty vegetables and fat meaty sausages, honey drizzled over fresh baked bread…"

Pippin found himself drooling.  He quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and shook the tempting thoughts of food from his mind.  It was bad enough that he didn't have any with him, he didn't need thoughts of delicious delicacies plaguing his brain.  Delicious, tasty, savory delicacies, like the sweet apple tarts Rosie always made back home…

"Oh, shoot me now," he whined as his stomach growled hungrily.  The lack of food was enough to drive anyone insane, and the continuous thoughts of food weren't helping any.  His hunger gnawed at his stomach like an annoying insect that never went away.  Not only was his stomach empty, but Pippin was also homesick.  It wasn't a feeling he was used to.  He had never been homesick before, but then again he had never been kidnapped before either.  

There must be something in his jacket that could save him.  His pockets of junk never failed him before.  Turning his pockets inside out in desperateness, he found some lint, two coins, dried flowers, a spoon, a few seeds, and an apple.

An apple?!

Pippin seized the fruit faster than lightning, making a mental note to thank Merry for slipping that in his pocket earlier before.  He was even more thankful that the dragon had not accepted his gift when he offered the apple to it.

His hunger wasn't as horrifying after he had finished the fruit, wiping his hands on his clothing.  Perhaps keeping random things in his pockets wasn't such a bad idea.  However, there was nothing in his pocket that could save him from the fact that he was still lost.

Standing up with a newfound courage and strength (or folly, he could not tell at that time), he began once more aimlessly meandering with no real direction, driven by only a great determination to return home safe.  

He hoped it would be enough.


	7. A thief amongst the travelers

**CHAPTER SEVEN: **A thief amongst the travelers

* * *

"How much longer have we to go?" Sam asked, feeling as if an age had passed since the beginning of their journey.  

Merry shrugged but continued walking along the twisted path, an extra skip added to his step.  He was in a good mood that night, even better than usual.  Perhaps it was because they had stumbled on a patch of mushrooms as they traveled, or perhaps it was because they had a destination now instead of wandering aimlessly.  But whatever the reason, his joy unfortunately did not last very long.

"I've got a bad feeling again," Sam announced as his eyes started darting around the shadows in suspicion.  

Frodo stopped suddenly in his tracks upon hearing his friend's words.  Since he was at the front of the line, Sam ran into Merry who promptly ran into Frodo, who was pushed to the ground from the force.  Merry and Sam exchanged glances before rushing to Frodo's side and helping him up.  "What is wrong?" Merry questioned.

"Where is my pipe?" the hobbit wondered as he began patting his coat pockets.  "I clearly remember it being in my right pocket, as it always is."

And then, Sam began to panic.  "Oh no, Mister Frodo.  This is bad.  It is a bad sign; first your pipe, then it'll be Merry, then us!  I knew that this was a horrid idea!  As the old Gaffer used to say, '_One ill omen often leads to another,'_ and I know better than to ignore my Gaffer's advice!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure you just misplaced it," Merry reassured, and then resumed whistling as he continued skipping.  

Frodo shook his head.  "I never misplace things.  Someone took it," he accused.

The hobbits stared at each other nervously.  Apparently, there was a thief amongst them; the tension in the air thickened drastically.  "We've no reason to take it, we all have brought our own pipe," Merry said.

"I never said the thief was either of you," Frodo corrected.  "I've no reason to accuse you; I trust the both of you like my brothers."

"That's right, we'd never steal from you, Mister Frodo," Sam nodded.  He turned to nudge his companion in the arm and smiled, "Isn't that right, Merry?" 

The hobbit paused, and then his eyes wandered nervously around the surroundings in search for a topic change.  "Say, how do you think the elves we met are faring?" he asked.

Frodo narrowed his eyes at Merry.  An awkward hesitation between all three of the hobbits followed, but there was definitely some anger and suspicion sent towards the Brandybuck in Frodo's part.  

Fortunately, the staring contest did not last long enough for a serious quarrel to break out.  A sniff in the air that came from Sam interrupted the moment of silence.  Merry and Frodo turned to see their friend inhale the air curiously, a confused look plastered on his round face.  They blinked as Sam continued sniffing, slightly afraid to ask what was amiss.  "I smell something.  A foul stench lingers in the air."

"It wasn't me," Merry replied quickly.

  
A disgusted look was his response before Sam shook his head.  "No, I smell…" he hesitated, scanning his memory for the right word.  "I smell smoke."

Frodo and Merry simultaneously both took a deep breath of the air, but they could not detect anything out of the normal.  

"Pipeweed smoke," Sam confirmed once again, cocking an eyebrow.  Then, he began walking away from them, stopping every so often to smell the foreign presence of the smoke again.    
  


"Must be the Doggit in him," Merry shrugged as they followed.  

"You know, this Doggit trait will come in handy," Frodo smiled.

"Indeed it will– hark!  The Doggit has found something!" he exclaimed as he saw Sam begin growling.  It was no ordinary growl; the one that the hobbit gave was low, almost a warning threat.  He had found something.

Frodo made his way beside Sam to see what he had discovered.  "What is it, boy?" 

The three of them turned to examine Sam's discovery, and was slightly disappointed to see what it was.  "Why, it's just a raccoon," Merry replied.  Sure enough, staring straight at them perched happily on a branch quite a distance away was the animal, grinning like a fiend.  His tiny paws were hidden behind his back, bushy tail waving side to side.

"Hullo there, what have you got?" Frodo asked softly, approaching the tree where it perched slowly so not to scare him.

Suddenly the raccoon pulled a pipe – Frodo's pipe –, from behind him and presented it to the hobbits.  A gasp escaped from all three of their mouths as they put the pieces of the mystery together.  "Blimey!  The bloody bugger stole'd your pipe!" Merry screamed as he pointed at the animal and jumped up and down in awareness.  Then, the raccoon's grin growing larger and larger, he spun around and darted towards the opposite direction before anyone could say anything else.

"Don't you mean _stolen_?" Frodo corrected.

"It doesn't matter, he still has your pipe whether he has _stole'd_ it or has _stolen_ it," Merry answered. 

"Huh.  What do you know?  A smoking raccoon!" Frodo laughed.  It took a few moments for the situation to sink into his mind, and then a few more to realize what just happened.  When it finally dawned on him, his face grew of pure dread and horror.  "MY PRECIOUS!  HE HAS MY PRECIOUS!" he exclaimed, donning his famous deer-in-headlights look again.

Without another moment's waste, Sam immediately dashed off after the thief on all fours.  He barked and snapped at the creature as he ran, determined to retrieve what was rightfully his master's.  "SAM!" Frodo screamed, then took off after the Doggit.

"FRODO!" Merry tailed the pursuers, not willing to be left behind in the creepy old forest.  

The chase was skill testing and difficult.  Being a raccoon, the sly fellow was able to squirm in and out of tree logs, narrow areas, complicated twists and turns.  Being a Doggit, and a chubby one at that, Sam was slightly slower than the small nocturnal animal, and a little less bright.  And being hobbits, both Merry and Frodo struggled to keep up with the two.

Sweat dripped down the Doggit's face like rivers, but he did not dare stop.  Not until his master's pipe was back in the rightful hands.  The raccoon took a sharp right and ducked underneath a low tree branch, continuing to sprint as fast as he could.  Sam followed with pure determination, but unfortunately for him he did not see the tree branch until it was too late.  His head collided right into the thick branch as he ran ahead, knocking Sam backwards onto the dirty ground.

The raccoon turned its head back to examine his work as he ran on.  Snickering at his ingenious plot, he was too busy to have seen the giant rock that lay right before it.  A dull thudding sound of the raccoon crashing into the rock, a small squeal of pain, and another dull thud following the fall of the creature ended the chase.

As soon as Frodo and Merry helped Sam rise, they sought the thief and their stolen item.  Frodo picked up the pipe to find that it was still lit, freshly used.  Staring suspiciously at the raccoon lying on the ground, Frodo tucked the pipe away securely in his backpack after thanking the Valar for its return.  The raccoon rolled over and coughed, two smoke rings emerging from its mouth.

"I didn't know raccoons smoke," Merry said.

"Me neither," Sam piped in. 

"Raccoons _don't_ smoke," the creature groaned as himself pushed itself up.  

The hobbits' eyes grew wide, unsure of what they have just seen.  Perhaps it was the pipeweed talking, or maybe they've merely been too long away from home.  Did that animal just–

"Yes, I'm talking," he spoke again, rubbing his head in pain.  "And I should have paid more attention to where I was going."

They were too shocked to speak.  Not only did the raccoon have a voice, but WHAT a voice it had!  A deep baritone melody emerged from the creature's throat, pleasing to the ear as well as amusing to watch coming from a tiny raccoon.  Who could have thought?

The raccoon shook his head, not surprised at the reaction.  He cleared his throat, and resumed, "Greetings from Lothlórien.  I have been sent to aid you in the search for your friend."

The hobbits blinked.  "Lothlórien elves sent you?" Merry exclaimed.

"They have raccoons in Lothlórien?" Sam piped in.

"Raccoons that _speak_?" Frodo said.  

Merry frowned.  "… And smoke?"

"… And steal?" Sam added.

The raccoon cleared his throat again before anyone could say aught else.  "I'm not perfect.  Stop picking on me."  Giving rather cold glares at the three hobbits, he saw that he had their complete attention before he continued.  "I am not a raccoon.  I am–– was a Guardian spirit.  The elves thought that appearing in my natural form would scare you away, so I assumed a… less intimidating life form."

"So what _is_ your natural form?" Sam asked, the question burning in the back of his mind.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," the animal assured.  "Anyway, Illiciatherionathil sent me to aid you.  The elven healer thought you would never find your way even out of this forest without some sort of aid."

The hobbits didn't know whether to feel thankful, or insulted.

"Illici… Illiciath…" Sam said slowly, trying to bring up his memory.  

"The elf that we met," Merry answered.  "I called him Icky, but he wasn't too happy about that."

"And I haven't the slightest idea why," the raccoon rolled his eyes again.  "My name is Theadoramitheriacaepernith," he introduced, bowing gracefully in greeting.

"Thead… Theadoram…" Sam stuttered again.

"Why does everyone have trouble pronouncing my name?  It's not Quenya you're learning.  The-a-dor-a-mith-eri-a-cae-per-nith!" he exclaimed.  

The hobbits exchanged looks of confusion, all scratching their heads with question marks written all over their faces.  The raccoon sighed.  "Call me Teddy.  Everyone else does anyway."

Frodo almost burst out laughing, but kept his giggles inside for the sake of being polite.  "Teddy the Guardian sprit?"

"Theadoramitheriacaepernith the Guardian spirit," he corrected.  "Teddy is for the less intelligent who can't pronounce a name as simple as mine."  

Once again, the hobbits debated amongst themselves on taking that as an insult.  They didn't get enough time to reach a decision when Teddy turned around, ignoring the puzzled faces of the hobbits as he began trotting away.  "Well, we'd better be off now.  I wasn't sent to dilly-dally and make friendly banter."

Sam turned to Frodo, and lowered his voice drastically so the raccoon would not hear, "Do we dare trust him?"

"You've no reason to have suspicion.  If evil wanted to lead you elsewhere, they would not assume the form of a _raccoon_ of all animals," Teddy spoke up, obviously heard Sam's comment.  "They'd choose something more frightening."  

The hobbit muttered a curse quietly to himself, forgetting that most animals have shaper hearing.  A Guardian spirit most likely would have superior hearing, and could hear a leaf fall onto the ground in Lothlórien if he needed.  Though they weren't too familiar with this mysterious raccoon, Sam already disliked him.

The raccoon pointed at the right with a tiny paw.  "As the result of the chase for your master's pipe, I have lead you directly to Bree, whereas without my aid you would have still been three days until your arrival."

Merry raised an eyebrow in disbelief.  There was no way that a few moments' chase could be worth three days of travel, even at a hobbit's pace.  And why should they trust a creature's advice?  Just because it could speak did not make it an ally.  

Approaching the bushes towards where Teddy pointed, Merry pushed aside the vegetation to see a small town beyond.  His doubts were removed as soon as he realized that the raccoon was telling the truth.  Before he could speak, Teddy darted off once again ahead of them.  "Make haste, Master Hobbits!  Spending one more day in this Old Forest is enough to drive even an immortal to his wits' end!"

Hesitating before finally giving in and following the animal, Frodo and his friends made their way towards Bree.  He was glad to be out of the forest himself, and he was sure that without the 'help' of the raccoon, they would still be wandering to and fro aimlessly.  

  
Sam, however, did not appreciate the raccoon at all.  "If he is a Guardian spirit, then may I encounter a cave troll with nothing but a frying pan in my hand to defend myself!" he exclaimed, but followed along willingly.


	8. The Wildwood Hobbit

**CHAPTER EIGHT:** The wildwood hobbit

* * *

Pippin was hungry.  

Hungry, lost, tired, wet, homesick, depressed, and lonely.  And there were still a few more sentiments he did not mention.

He had never felt so horrible.  Nothing he had experienced in his sheltered life in the Shire could compare to this.  Pippin wasn't even sure if he would ever see his comfortable little hobbit hole ever again, and began to regret ever raiding the farmer's crops in the first place.  It was all Merry's fault.  It was he who dragged him along.  

But it didn't matter whose fault it was now, or who was to blame.  The fact was that Pippin was lost, and accusations would not magically transport him back home, though it did give him something to think of other than food.  

Finally flopping down on the grass after hours of traveling with no real idea of where he was heading, he tried his best to ignore his grumbling stomach.  It was one of the most difficult tasks he had faced.  Scorched was how his throat felt, so parched that he felt that it would be impossible to speak.  He had not eaten since a full hearty meal since that day he was taken from his home, which was a total of… 

Pippin tried to mentally count the days and nights since he left, but found that he couldn't.  Not being the best at mathematics, he had lost count (or interest) somewhere after the first day.  Letting out a long sigh of boredom, Pippin found himself fiddling with the blades of grass under his fingers.  A small bird landed gracefully before the hobbit and cocked its head to the side inquisitively.

The Took blinked, turning his attention away from the grass to the animal.  "Hullo there," he greeted slowly, not wanting to frighten away the small creature.

The bird stood there and examined Pippin from head to toe.

"Sorry, no food here," Pippin shook his head sadly.  

A quiet rustling startled both the hobbit and the bird.  As quick as the wind, the bird fluttered away to safety, leaving Pippin behind to deal.  Turning his head around to see who was approaching, the hobbit's eyes met nothing out of the ordinary.  But yet, he could feel a strange presence underneath his skin that deeply disturbed him.

The rustling was heard again, but this time louder and much closer.  Pippin slowly rose to his feet, feeling that it wasn't safe to stay in that place anymore.  Immediately picking a random direction and heading off, the hobbit quickened his pace to avoid trouble at all costs.  He dared not look back, in fear of what he might find.  What if it was a colossal four-legged monster with giant fangs and ugly tentacles?  Or a one eyed slimy snake the size of Merry's appetite, with wings that could easily out fly the biggest of birds?

He quickly brushed away those thoughts as mere figments of his imagination.  "As Sam's Gaffer would say, '_Never let your imagination get the best of you_,' " Pippin told himself.  Though he successfully pushed away images of monstrous creatures with bloody fangs, he still continued walking at his hasty pace.  

It was a while before he felt it safe enough to stop again.  Pippin found another place to rest, namely a nice big clearing with a few scattered boulders suitable for hiding if danger showed its ugly face.  He smiled, clearly satisfied with his find.  "Pippin, you could be a regular wildwood hobbit!" he praised himself, beaming proudly as he marched straight to the first giant rock and flopped down beside it.

He paused to ponder on that phrase, his face frowning in frustration.  "A wildwood hobbit… is there such a thing?" Pippin asked himself.  Shrugging, the hobbit dismissed the idea as something of little importance.  No point in wasting precious brainpower over something so insignificant.

Leaning back on the rock, Pippin relaxed and closed his eyes.  He felt sun shining warmly on his skin as he basked lazily in its rays.  

In spite of the facts that Pippin was hungry, tired, and thirsty, perhaps being out of his town had its advantages after all.  There wasn't anyone there to tell him what to do, no one to snap at him for his "Tookish behavior", and best of all, it was peaceful.  Not a single noise, save the wind whistling happily as it danced by, or that eerie howling echoing through the valleys.

_Eerie howling?_  

Pippin opened his eyes a crack to make sure he was truly alone.  There wasn't any being around him that he could see.  When he was satisfied with his results, he closed his eyes again and let the warmth of the sun cast a blanket over his body again.  

He fell asleep not long after, weariness overwhelming the little hobbit.  So deep in his sleep, Pippin did not notice the dark shadow that slowly crept over his entire body.  He found himself shivering all of a sudden, the heat of the sun abruptly disappearing.  Waking up from the unexpected cold, Pippin opened his eyes to find himself facing two blood red eyes staring straight back at him.

Pippin stifled a scream arising from his throat not to startle the creature.  Drool dripped endlessly from the beast's jaws, baring its jagged stained teeth.  The first thing that popped into the hobbit's mind as soon as he laid eyes on the monster was its terrifying name: a Warg.  He had heard stories of them as a young hobbit, and had only thought that it was a mere myth made up to frighten children.  Unfortunately for him, they were not fictitious creatures, but were real as hobbits themselves.  

The Warg was hungry, Pippin was sure of that much.  How he was going to get himself out of this situation was another story.  His hands slowly reached out to grasp at anything that could be a weapon against this vile beast, his eyes never tearing from the enemy.  He feared that if he even so much as blinked, Pippin would become the creature's next meal.  

The Warg drew nearer and nearer, cautiously approaching his prey.  Pippin found that his hand could not find anything that could be of use, unless twigs or blades of grass could miraculously save him from a certain death.  As his hand groped across the loose sand of the ground, an idea suddenly popped into his mind. 

At the same moment the beast lunged at the hobbit, its mouth wide open and ready to kill, Pippin shut his eyes and flung the handful of sand at the Warg.  A loud roar of pain followed, and then the Took opened his eyes to see the Warg shaking the dirt furiously off his head.  The sand had found its way into the creature's eye, obscuring its vision and allowing a brief moment for the hobbit to escape.  

  
Not wasting another precious second, Pippin scattered to his feet and ran as fast as he could.  Though he was quite speedy for a hobbit, he knew that there was no way he could outrun a Warg.  He needed a plan, or at least a place to hide.  A quick glance behind him confirmed that the Warg had recovered from the abrupt attack, and was now angrier and even more determined to taste the hobbit's flesh.  It immediately darted off towards Pippin, snarling irately at its prey.

Pippin's eyes scanned the area as he ran, desperately searching for a place to hide.  And then, like a gift from the heavens, there it was: a deep hole at the side of the mountain big enough to fit a hobbit, but not a Warg.  

He was not safe yet.  There was still the matter of outrunning the Warg and reaching the short little cavern in time.  And if he should dive right into to the hole successfully, who's to say that it wasn't occupied by another pleasant surprise?  Then again, better risk it than feel the deadly teeth of the Warg sink into his leg.  It was just a gamble he would have to make.  

Holding his breath of air, Pippin sprinted as fast as his stunted legs could take him and dove head first into the little hole.  Luckily for him, only the entrance was low and small.  The shadowy cavern inside was larger and roomier, but Pippin was too frightened to notice.  As soon as he sat back up, he scampered to the corner of the cave, his eyes turned to the entrance watching it nervously.

Nothing appeared before it for what seemed like decades.  All was peaceful, nothing stirred.  Pippin let out his breath, and let his head fall back onto the wall of the cave.  He was panting, drops of sweat literally pouring down his face.

An abrupt roar made Pippin jump.  He turned to see the head of the Warg pop suddenly into the entrance of the cave and then snap wildly at the hobbit in a frenzy.  Acting out of pure instincts, the Took gripped his fist into a ball and gave the Warg the hardest punch on the side of its muzzle with a shout of anger.  

And then, the Warg pulled its head out of the tiny entrance and disappeared.  Pippin sighed in relief, yet again.  Once more had he stared Death in the eye, stabbed them with two of his fingers, turned around, ran, and gotten away with it.  It was pure luck that he survived so far, and he still could not believe it.  He had always been told that he was a fortunate hobbit, but never did he expect his luck to run this far. 

Resting his head against the sidewall of the cave and feeling its coolness against his hot skin, Pippin felt numbness and fatigue take over his body.  "I AM a wildwood hobbit," he smiled to himself, realizing how much he had accomplished.  He had even outsmarted a Warg!  Perhaps he would make it home to the Shire and be able to tell this story to his grandchildren, should he have any.  

Not giving this any more thought than it deserved, Pippin closed his eyes and fell quickly asleep, the thoughts of the Warg disappearing from his mind as fast as the creature itself had appeared.


	9. New Meetings

**CHAPTER NINE:** New meetings

* * *

In the Prancing Pony Inn, business was as usual: very busy.  Pipeweed smoke filled the air, but it wasn't only from the hobbits.  Apparently, the Bree habitants also smoked up like chimneys, though hobbits viewed smoking more as an art form than just something to pass the time.  The innkeeper Barliman Butterbur was scattering about, as well as his three servants.  None paid too much attention to the three hobbits that sat at the table, legs dangling off the side of their chairs and hands each wrapped around a mug.  

"I'm glad that raccoon didn't make it in with us," Sam declared as he took a swig of his drink.

"Why is that?  He was a jolly old chap.  Any friend of the elves is a friend of mine," Merry asked.

Sam furrowed his brow at the mention of elves again, but quickly hid his disappointment.  "He wasn't jolly at all.  He was bitter, rude, sarcastic, and unpleasant.  Nothing like elves."

"Either way, he's gone now," Frodo jumped in.  "There was no way he could have survived that horse trampling over him like that."

"He's a spirit.  If he told the truth, he'll still live on… just not in that body," Merry reassured, ending that topic there.  

The three of them sighed at the same time, but each for different reasons.  Sam took one last sip of his drink, and set it on his table, empty.  His eyes scanned the room as he tried to adapt to the new environment, though he wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to do so.  Everything was just so different from the Shire.  For starters, everything was twice their size since Bree men were… Men.  There were hobbits as well, but only as a minority.

"I could sure go for some ale right now," Merry interrupted Sam's thoughts, noticing that his own cup was also emptied.  Without any further thoughts, he hailed one of the servants and immediately ordered three ales for the three road-weary travelers.  

Surprisingly, the servant did nothing about it.  "No ales," he simply stated.

Frodo was a little taken by the refusal.  "Why not?" the hobbit asked.

"Fresh out.  Only wine," he said again.

"What kind?" Frodo questioned, hoping this wasn't a scheme to weasel money from visitors.

The servant seemed sincere enough, though he strangely spoke only two words at a time.  "Elf wine.  Very good."

Sam stopped Frodo before he could agree by reaching out and holding his arm.  "Don't they have high rate of alcohol content?" he asked, a worried look appearing on his face.  

Shrugging, the hobbit decided that merely trying the wine would do no harm.  And how often is it that he is able to leave the Shire and taste foods and wines from other places, anyway?  "Three, if you please," Frodo requested.

"Three bottles.  Coming up," the man nodded.

Frodo raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "No, three glasses!" he shouted after him, but the servant had already walked away.  

Almost as quick as lightning, another servant dashed out of the kitchen with their three bottles.  "Here you go, young masters," he smiled as he placed their orders before them.  He spun around and headed to serve another table, leaving the three to gawk at the giant bottles.

"This is going to hurt our wallets," Sam pointed out. 

Upon hearing those words, the servant stopped abruptly as if suddenly remembering something.  Turning back to face the hobbits, he said, "Oh, and it's already paid for."

The three hobbits exchanged curious looks.  Not that they were complaining or anything.  "By who?" they all asked simultaneously.  

He pointed at a young hobbit lass sitting at a table across the room, then quickly resumed his work.  A wide grin grew on Merry's face as the hobbit waved at them, smiling sweetly and fluttering her long eyelashes.  It was a strange sight for the three hobbits to see a single hobbit lass sit alone in such a crowded and busy place.

"Who's that?" Sam asked, nudging Frodo in the elbow.    
  
Before Frodo had a chance to reply, Merry jumped off his seat and made his way towards the table valiantly, but not before turning around and giving a reassuring wink to his friends.  "I think we're about to find out," Frodo muttered.

Merry strutted his way towards the hobbit lass, and grinning like a fiend.  Swiftly he took her hand and kissed it, while Frodo and Sam gagged in the background.  "Meriadoc Brandybuck, at your service," he introduced, winking at the blushing hobbit before him.

"Charmed," she replied.  "Estella Bolger, at your service and your family's."

Pausing slightly, Merry tried to recall why the name struck him so familiar.  "Bolger, as in Fredegar Bolger?"

"He's my brother, yes."

"Nooo," Merry raised his eyebrows in surprise.  "Surely you don't mean Fatty Bolger of the Shire?"

She nodded, pulling her hand out of Merry's with a quick jerk.  Out of shock, Merry had forgotten to release her hand after their introduction.  "I assume you know each other?"

"I know every Shire habitant," Merry grinned again, straightening his collar proudly.  Unintentionally, he pushed a drunken man off chair beside Estella and sat down on it, giving her his whole attention.  He paid no heed to the loud thud of the drunkard falling onto the wooden planks, and then the roar of laughter followed by his audience.  "Tell me, why does a lovely delicate flower bloom in such a hideous foul swamp like this?" he asked, ignoring the loud snickering of Sam and Frodo.

Estella blushed an even deeper shade of red, if that was possible.  "I wanted an adventure.  The Shire was dull, and alas! so was my so called outing… and then I found you," she said, turning away in embarrassment.

More snickering made Merry shoot an icy glare at Frodo and Sam.  Seeing that they had his attention, Frodo took Sam's hand and kissed it, and Sam dramatically fainted onto the floor with his hand over his heart.  They both burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, reminding Merry to poison their water skins when he had the chance.

"Who are they?" Estella asked, moving her head slightly to see what caught Merry's attention so quickly.  

"Nobody important," Merry quickly covered up, shuffling over to block her view of his two friends.  

When Estella was about to open her mouth to speak, the drunken fellow that Merry had pushed aside arose.  "Watchu think you'er doin', pushin' meh ovaah like dat?" he slurred, pointing straight at the hobbit.  Though he stood a good few feet taller than Merry, the Brandybuck wasn't one bit frightened of the man.  

"I didn't do it," Merry shrugged, toppling the man over again with one good sturdy shove.  

  
Estella gasped, and covered her mouth with both her hands as she watched the man fall to the floor for the second time.  "You shouldn't have done that, Meriadoc," she warned, lowering her voice.  "Bree men are unstable already.  _Drunken_ Bree men can be deadly."

On cue, all the men rose from their seats and glared evilly at the tiny hobbit.  The entire inn customers fell silent, and stared at the feud that was about to take place.  Liquid poured out of mouths that were gaping open, not daring to move.  The fallen man stammered back to his two feet, and spat at the hobbit disrespectfully.

The spit had missed the Merry and hit another unsuspecting man, which rose and threw his drink at him angrily.  All of a sudden, everyone began shouting at each other, and then throwing punches.  Pretty soon the whole inn was in a giant brawl.  Utter chaos had broken out that even the burly Butterbur could not bring under control.  

Merry crawled underneath a table for shelter, and quickly pulled Estella underneath to avoid being hit by flying objects.  "Look what you've done!" she accused almost immediately.

"I didn't mean to!" Merry shot back, his eyes frantically darting around for an escape.  "We've got to get out of here."

"You needn't say that twice," Estella agreed.

Spotting Sam and Frodo already at the entrance, Merry decided to make a break for it.  He grasped Estella's tiny hand and sprinted towards the door, dodging flying chairs, drinks, and some unidentifiable items on the way.  

Unfortunately, the two hobbits were spotted.  "Get the halflings!" a voice shouted from above the noise.  At once, a giant herd of men began insanely stampeding towards the fleeing two.  Merry quickly ushered Estella out of the inn, stepped outside himself, and then turned around to close the door hastily.  The both of them winced as they heard a loud crash inside the building, but didn't linger any longer.  

Estella pointed at a small horse-driven wagon across the street.  Under the covers were Sam and Frodo, hastily signaling Merry to come.  Without wasting a moment, Merry darted off towards the wagon but skidded to a stop when he realized Estella wasn't by his side.  Turning around, he saw her standing in the middle of the road, hesitant to follow.  

"Come on, Estella.  We've got to go!" Merry warned, signaling her to hurry up.

She shook her head sadly.  "I promised my brother I wouldn't go further than Bree."

"Merry!" Frodo hissed loudly, stealing his attention away from the hobbit lass.  "It's now or never!"

Torn by his decisions, Merry looked at a panicking Frodo, then at the calm and collected Estella.  He repeated this a few times, still undecided.  "Merry!" Sam piped in, hoping to be able to persuade his friend.  "My old Gaffer always says _'when opportunity comes a knockin'… don't screw yourself over!' "_

"Your friend is right… I think," Estella agreed, pointing at the wagon.  "They will not hurt me, it's you they're after.  Now fly!"

Merry took her hands in his own, and started straight into her crystal blue eyes.  "Will I ever see you again?"

"Fly, Meriadoc!" she ordered one last time.  The hobbit blinked, and then after one quick peck on her cheek, Merry sped off towards the wagon.  He leapt into the covers just as the drunken mob burst out the doors of the inn, chairs and table legs in their hands and alcohol staining their breath.    
  


"They went that way!" Estella jumped up and down ecstatically, pointing down the street in the opposite direction.  With a lurid war cry, the mob began stampeding down the street leaving Estella behind to admire her work.  She turned back around to see that the driver had hopped back on to his wagon, oblivious of the addition to his cargo, and had already began his journey.  A single grunt and the horse began trotting down the street obediently.

Estella sighed as she watched the wagon eventually disappear from her sight.  "Meriadoc Brandybuck," she repeated to herself, heading back into the Prancing Pony and retiring to her chamber.  She smiled at the sound of his name.  "We'll meet again, Meriadoc," she assured as she closed the door behind her gently.

* * *

Pippin dared not exit his little cave until he was completely sure that the Warg had left.  Even then, he was reluctant to leave the security of the cavern, but his intense hunger and thirst was beginning to drive him insane.  If he did not find food within the next day, Pippin was sure that he would be ready to tear the Warg apart with his own hands and devour it live.  

Slowly wriggling out of the tiny cavern successfully, Pippin was happy to see that it was night had fallen already.  Surely the Warg would be asleep, or perhaps it had found other prey and would cease hunting the poor hobbit.  Taking a good few moments to examine his surroundings for any enemies before standing up, Pippin once again headed towards a random direction.  This time, he had an objective instead of the aimless wandering he has been doing the last few days: to scavenge for food.

Deeply wishing that he had Sam's instincts when it came to locating food (that hobbit could smell a fruit tree from a league away), Pippin began trying to recall the types of edible berries there were available.  It would have helped if he actually knew where on Middle-earth was he, but since those facts were not known to him, he would just have to risk it.

As luck would have it, the Took stumbled on a few bushes decorated with many bright red berries after what seemed like ages of walking.  Wondering if they were either edible or fatal, Pippin stared at the strange berries for a long time, debating on his decisions.  His empty stomach argued a valid point, but his brain always responded with a good rebuttal.  The hobbit was torn.

That was when a tiny bird, the same one he had met earlier, fluttered by and landed right at Pippin's large feet.  "Hullo again," the hobbit greeted cheerily.  "Why aren't you asleep like any normal bird?"

The bird cocked its head to the side as it stared at the giant berry that perched on the bush before it.  

"Ah, a late evening snack?" Pippin smiled.  "I like you.  You remind me of myself."

Without hesitation, the bird snatched the berry from the bush with its beak and swallowed it with one huge gulp, leaving the hobbit astonished.  "You even have my appetite," he laughed.

Chirping once, almost as if it was saying goodbye, the bird turned around and flew off into the distance.  Pippin turned his attention back to the berry bush, and smiled to himself.  "Ah, that means the berries are not poisonous!  Thank you, my little friend!" he exclaimed as he began gathering handfuls of the fruit at once.  He made a mental note to himself never to allow hobbit children to chase away birds again.

After practically stripping the bushes dry, Pippin's stomach was reasonably satisfied.  He was not full, by far, but at least the intense grumbling of his stomach had stopped for the moment.  "My sanity for a nice pot of stew," he sighed out loud as he began walking again, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

It was unusually peaceful that night, with the stars shining over the land like fireflies in the sky.  Pippin never did like the night; the strange things often lurked in the shadows.  He was more of a morning/day hobbit himself, but it wasn't as if he had a choice right now.  His eyes drifted away to a cliff in the faraway distance, wondering if there was food beyond it, when suddenly he caught sight of the most peculiar thing.  A dark figure was perched at the top of the cliff, standing proudly on all four legs and watching the world below it.

Pippin's heart froze when he recognized that dark silhouette as the Warg.  What shocked him even more was that behind that Warg slowly appeared many, many more shadows, crawling seemingly out of the darkness.    
  
The Warg had recruited his friends for the hunt.


	10. The attack of the spork

CHAPTER TEN: The attack of the spork  
  
-----  
  
"Psst… Frodo?"  
  
"Yah?"  
  
"I'm hungry."  
  
"You're always hungry."  
  
"I know, but I'm actually --thump-- hungry this time--"  
  
"Hold your tongues! The driver might hear us!"  
  
"Why is the --ow!-- road so --ouch!-- bumpy?"  
  
"I'd rather face --thump-- this than that --thump-- mob back there."  
  
"Psst… Frodo?"  
  
"What!?"  
  
"I have to go pee."  
  
"Oh, for the love of--"  
  
The driver looked up momentarily, upon hearing the sudden voices seemingly appearing from his cargo. Without stopping his horse, he turned his head to inspect his wagon. The thick canvas covered the barrels nicely, which were securely tied to the wagon to prevent toppling. Nothing at all seemed amiss.   
  
Dismissing the voices as mere figments of his imagination, the driver turned back to the long road and sighed deeply.  
  
"He almost caught us!"  
  
"It was your --ouch!-- fault. You breathe too loudly, Sam."  
  
"I most certainly do not. Do I, Frodo?"  
  
"…Well…"  
  
"Crikey! I do, don't I?! "  
  
"Sam! Let's just concentrate on the --ow!-- situation we've found ourselves in."  
  
"Shh! Not so loud!"  
  
Turning back once again, the driver became more and more suspicious. Since when did cargo talk? He pulled the reigns of the horse, and it came to a graduate stop. For a long moment, he merely sat there and stared at the canvas carefully. Nothing moved at all, and all was as it should be once more.   
  
Sighing, the driver started the horse off for the second time. Perhaps he was only hallucinating. He was nearing a kingdom of Elves anyway; perhaps the magical creatures had this effect on Men.   
  
"You did it again, Sam."  
  
" 'To blame does not solve the problem,' as my ol' Gaffer would say."  
  
"He's right, Merry. Concentrate! We need to overtake this cart somehow."  
  
This time, the driver was absolutely positive that it was not only his imagination speaking. Ordering the horse to an immediate stop, he leapt of his seat and stared at his wagon with great suspicion.   
  
"We need to get rid of the driver."  
  
"How? Have you any weapons?"  
  
Slowly and cautiously, the driver crept towards his covered cargo. With a bit of luck, he would find out that the voices were only from stowaways who only wanted a ride to the next city. But judging from the ill fortune he has been having for the past week, his company was probably demons looking for their next meal. Either way, he needed to be at the top of his toes.  
  
"I have my spork."  
  
"A spork? Ah, finally, that stupid utensil comes in handy!"  
  
"I told you so! Now you can't shout at me for collecting strange objects!"  
  
"Can you spork a Man unconscious?"  
  
"Can you spork anything unconscious?"  
  
"I'll certainly try. If the spork fails, he'll still have Sam Gamgee to reckon with."  
  
Suddenly, from the covers emerged a being with the face of a man but the body of a child. Gasping with surprise, the driver found himself dumbfounded to the point where he couldn't find the words to speak, nor the power to move. Even as he saw the figure fling a wooden object towards him with a great strength, he didn't budge one bit.   
  
Only when the object hit him square between the eyes did the driver twitch slightly, only to fall backwards and watch the world before him fade away.   
  
Sam stood up and jumped off the wagon, towering over the driver triumphantly. "I did it! The spork worked!"  
  
Frodo and Merry appeared from the covers and exchanged astonished looks. "Well, I'd never…" Merry said.  
  
"Oh, snap! This is great! Not only is it a convenient eating utensil, but a deadly weapon too!" Sam jumped up and down in good cheer.   
  
"Yes, I'm sorry for doubting you, Sam," Frodo apologized sincerely, right before leaping into the driver's seat and taking the map in his hands. He began inspecting the worn piece of paper carefully from all angles, knitting his brows in great frustration.   
  
Meanwhile, Merry was busy inspecting the cargo. Clapping his hands happily when he found that the wagon was filled with barrels and barrels of wine (he was quite disappointed when they had to leave their three bottles of wine behind in the bar), all his problems suddenly seemed to have lifted from his shoulders.  
  
Frodo signaled for the other two hobbits to come. Sam willingly sat by his side, but Merry had occupied himself by insisting that he needed to kiss every barrel before proceeding any further. "What is it?" Sam asked.  
  
Pointing at a chain of mountains that branched off the Misty Mountains, Frodo smiled. "This is where the elves said the dragon would be. If we are going to search for Pippin, we should start at Ettenmoors. The problem now is figuring out where we are."  
  
Sam sniffed the air curiously. "I smell water. We should be near a river somewhere."  
  
And his friend gave him the strangest glance. "You can smell water?"   
  
The hobbit shrugged.   
  
Returning his attention to the map, Frodo studied it some more. "I'm pretty sure that we're on the East-West road, on the way to Rivendell. If you can smell water, that means we should be near the Hoarwell River," he concluded. "Which means, we should travel northwest in order to reach the dragon's lair."  
  
"Right!" Sam agreed. Turning to Merry, he said, "We're leaving now. Would you like to sit up front with us? There's plenty of room."  
  
Merry shook his head vigorously, and crossed his arms as he sat down on a barrel. "No. I'm staying here with the wine. Not even the strongest winds can blow me away from my precious wine."  
  
Shrugging, Sam returned his attention back to the road. "Suit yourself," he muttered as he took the reigns and gave them a small flick with the wrists. Obediently, the horse began trotting along, slightly rejuvenated from the short break.   
  
"Pippin, here we come! Northbound!" Frodo sang, happy with the progress they were making. And the horse-driven wagon daintily strolled away from the road, all of their cares driven away once more. All except one.  
  
Sam scratched his head subconsciously as he pondered over his question. "Which way is north?"   
  
-----  
  
The hobbit dared not move even a single inch, in fear that the Wargs perched on top of the cliff would spot him. He prayed that the darkness of the nights would be able to conceal him safely, but he knew that the chances of that were slim to none. Nevertheless, that slim speck of hope was still there, and Pippin hoped it would be enough as he held his breath.  
  
It wasn't. One of the Wargs' sharp eyes caught sight of the small hobbit, and let out a sudden bark to warn the others. Knowing that it wasn't safe to stay any longer, Pippin quickly spun around and sped off. He was lucky when he encountered the single Warg, but facing a whole pack was nothing short of suicide. It wouldn't take long for the Wargs to descend from the cliff. They would be at the hobbit's heels within a few moments.  
  
Once again, Pippin found himself wondering how he was going to get himself out of this predicament as he ran on. He needed a place to hide before it was too late. Mentally hitting himself for not staying in that small cavern longer, the Took desperately searched for something similar. Maybe he should hide in a tree. Could Wargs climb?   
  
Before he could reply to his own question, Pippin suddenly saw that his road had come to an end. Before him was a wide, rapidly flowing river that directly cut off his path. Skidding to an abrupt halt, he had almost tumbled right into the waiting grasp of the rushing river, his arms pin-wheeling wildly in attempt to regain his balance. Once he had, Pippin turned his head expecting a whole gang of Wargs pouncing on him hungrily. Thankfully, that never happened for the Wargs were still quite a distance away, but it didn't mean that Pippin was safe.  
  
He ran through his options mentally again. He could continue running in an opposite direction, in hopes to find a tree to hide from the creatures. Unfortunately, the Wargs would most likely sniff him out and wait patiently at the bottom of the tree until Pippin let his guard down, then it would be the ends of him. His second option was to face the Wargs, which seemed incredibly unrealistic and folly. His third was not exactly a wizard of an idea either; leaping straight into the river and praying for the best seemed impractical. The fact that he couldn't swim didn't help either.  
  
Hearing the growling and snarling behind him confirmed within a few moments, if Pippin didn't make a decision soon, he would feel their jaws sink into his tender flesh. Turning back to the river, the hobbit made his final choice. Grabbing a piece of driftwood from the ground as a float, Pippin leapt into the rushing river, and let the powerful current sweep his body away. The Wargs skidded to a stop at the edge of the river just in time to see the tiny hobbit float into the far distance.  
  
Pippin felt like he was being suffocated as the waves continuously forced him up and down. His piece of driftwood didn't help much since once his body hit the icy waters he lost his grip upon the slippery wood. He wanted to at least try to crawl to the surface to gasp for air, but the currents were so strong that his limbs would not budge. It felt as if an invisible hand had the poor hobbit in its tight grasp, restraining him cruelly from oxygen. As water filled his lungs, Pippin began to lose all the hopes he once had.  
  
No, he couldn't give up. He was still young; there were so many people he had yet to annoy. And Merry! What would the Brandybuck do without his partner in crime? Who would raid Farmer Maggot's crops if he should perish? There was so much more to do, and Pippin was not ready to leave without accomplishing them first.   
  
Feeling a new courage pulse through his veins, Pippin found the strength to break free of the icy grip that held him tight. With one great sweep, he pushed himself to the surface of the water and inhaled the fresh air deeply. He choked and coughed violently before he was swallowed once again by the hungry waters.  
  
The hobbit gathered all his strength to arise to the surface a second time, but only to find that he had little to none left. He had used up large amounts of his energy fighting the current, and now he felt completely drained. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and give in to the water biting at his blue skin, but a voice inside his mind spoke in a tone louder than he could bear. Its shout could be heard over the sound of the waves crashing and the rushing water combined, and refused to allow the poor hobbit rest.   
  
The voice continuously nagged and gnawed at Pippin, urging him to remain persistent. When he thought he had nothing left in his body and soul, the voice managed to convince him to scrounge for that tiny scrap of power that helped him surface the water for breath. The voice refused to allow the hobbit to be defeated.   
  
As the hasty currents carried him by, Pippin struggled to keep himself above the water with his arms. It was a miracle that Pippin did what he did, because as his hand touched a loose root of a tree he grasped it without thinking. A sudden jerk stopped him from the flow, and Pippin found himself free from the freezing clasp of the river for the moment. With a frustrated groan, he pulled himself onto the shore using all the leftover strength he could muster.   
  
Collapsing onto the solid ground, Pippin winced painfully, taking unnaturally large breaths. He was beginning to regain feeling in his limbs once again, but unfortunately the feelings were of pain. His entire body felt sore and was throbbing with ache and fatigue. A thousand and one needles were stabbing him violently again and again, until he wanted no more but to slip away until a blissful state of unconsciousness. Truth be told, Pippin wanted rest more than anything on Middle-earth as he turned over to lie on his back, though the strange but faint screeching noises he heard screamed danger in his mind.  
  
But he was too tired to do anything. Forgetting all the possible perils of the foreign land, the Took closed his eyes and let blackness devour him whole. 


	11. Into the fire

**CHAPTER ELEVEN:** Into the fire

It had been forever and a day since they had first left the Shire, but now the three hobbits did not regret stepping foot out of their precious hobbit holes. This adventure proved to be once in a lifetime, especially after the finding of the wine cart. Merry would let none touch the barrels save himself, insisting they would not drink a drop until they have arrived home with Pippin by their side.

And so, they traveled stray from the East-West road, continuing their search for their lost friend. Not even the continuous screeching noises heard in the faraway distances wavered the hope that the hobbits showed, though Sam grew more and more edgier by the moment. "I don't think it's very safe here," he warned his companions, his instincts screaming danger in his mind. "Those noises make me nervous, and you know what my Gaffer says: _'Always--' "_

"Your Gaffer also said _'A closed mouth gathers no foot,' _" Merry snapped. "Those screeches are probably from distant hawks communicating. There's nothing else that can possibly go wrong. We have faced all possible evils, from dragons to drunken Bree men to shifty-eyed crows. Next thing you're going to say is that we're going to confront talking, moving trees, water that can show the future, and even some form of jewelry that posses all who touch it. Sam, your imagination is beyond my comprehension."

Sam shrugged. "My Gaffer never said that," he muttered to himself and returned his eyes to the horizon. Although Merry's lecture shut him up good, he decided to keep up his guard nevertheless.

Sensing the tension building between the two hobbits, Frodo decided it best to take a short break. "Look, there's a cave up ahead. Let's stop in there, I think our horse is getting tired," he suggested. "Rest would do us all some good."

They all nodded in agreement and Frodo drove the cart towards the far away cave. It was a complete coincidence that clouds began building up above them as they drew nearer to it, and even more of a fluke when the moment they entered the cave was when it started pouring buckets.

"Aren't you glad we stopped, Mister Frodo?" Sam smiled as he broke off a piece of dry hard bread and handed it to him.

Frodo stared at the large drops of rain crashing onto the forest ground from the shelter of the cave. "Yes, Sam… but I don't want to stay here for long."

"He's right," Merry piped in, gnawing on his own piece of bread thoughtfully. "I have this strange feeling that Pippin is in trouble, and it hurts for me to merely sit here and wait."

"We cannot save Pippin if we all die of the cold," Sam argued.

Merry didn't have a chance to reply, because the hungry carthorse had stolen the bread straight from his hands and swallowed it whole. Deciding that in a brawl between a hobbit and a full-grown horse, the latter would most likely be the victor, Merry let it casually slide. "I'm going out to scout the area," he announced as he stood up and clutched his cloak tighter.

The two hobbits and even the horse suddenly froze. "Are you mad?" Frodo asked, storming up to Merry. "It's raining frogs and toads out there. You'll come back as a walking ice sculpture!"

"And it's not safe!" Sam added. "There are witches, goblins, ghosts, spiders, clowns, flesh-eating plants, insects the size of ponies--"

The hobbit shook his head. "It's better than staying in this cave and sitting on our behinds, waiting for the time to pass. Maybe I'll find some landmarks or something to check if we're on the right track," he offered. "Besides, I could use the thinking time."

It was a common trait of the Brandybucks to be as stubborn as mules, and Frodo knew there was nothing he could do to change his mind. Nodding slowly, Frodo reluctantly let him go. "If you don't come back within an hour, we'll come looking for you," he said.

Without a goodbye, Merry walked out into the rain, the drops beating down on his shoulders like rocks. He soon disappeared from their sight without a trace. It was as if he was never there in the first place. "I have a bad feeling about this," Sam muttered to himself as he exchanged a nervous look with the horse.

The horse grunted in agreement, and they all waited eagerly for Merry's return.

Merry didn't mind the fact that it was cold. He didn't mind the fact that he was drenched from head to toe either. His mind didn't allow him to feel the icy cold, for it was far too busy racing through the many thoughts that plagued him. Never had he left the comfort of the Shire for so long, nor the side of his dearest cousin.

What if Pippin was dead? What if the dragon had eaten him, like what Illi-- Illither-- the elf they had met earlier said? Then their search would all be in vain. What if they had taken a wrong turn, and had missed Pippin while doing so? What if--

The hobbit shook his head furiously, not only to rid of some of the rain from his hair, but also to rid his mind from the horrid pessimism. If they were going to find their dear friend, they would need hope. But it was easier said than done. Hope was so easy to let slip through their fingers.

Consuming a barrel of wine seemed the best idea to do at the moment. After all, it was one of his many mottos: alcohol was the often the creator of --and solution to-- many of life's problems. It was too bad that he had promised himself not to drink any of the wine without Pippin by his side.

In his despair, Merry did not pay too much attention to where he was stepping. One false step sent him flying towards the muddy floor, a depressing splat-sound following. Spitting out a mouthful of mud, Merry pushed himself up when he heard a groan that emerged from underneath him.

He froze in fear. Since when did dirt groan? The hobbit looked underneath him, and much to his surprise, found a limp tiny body beneath him. Another groan escaped from its mouth as Merry scrambled to its side, and rolled it over so it lay on his back. Wiping some dirt off its face, Merry's jaw dropped when he recognized the face of the unconscious being belonging to the lost hobbit. He had found him.

"Good gracious!" Merry exclaimed. "It's YOU!"

Pippin did not reply.

Immediately, Merry grasped his friend's hand and was shocked to feel that it was ice cold. His lips were an unnatural blue shade, and his skin was a deathly white. "Pippin, can you hear me!?" Merry exclaimed, shaking his friend's shoulders.

When there was no response, the hobbit took action. He lifted his friend in his arms and trudged quickly back to the cave, a million more things racing in his mind. Surprisingly, Pippin was a lot lighter than he had last known. It was not a good sign.

But Merry had found hope once again, and wasn't about to let it go as easily as before. His heart began beating faster and faster, and a mysterious warmth kept him going in spite of the pouring rain and the slippery mud beneath him. Strangely, Merry forgot that it was freezing outside. He had stopped shivering as he jogged on the muddy tracks, and could focus only on one thing: to get Pippin to safety.

"Don't worry, Pip'," he spoke aloud. "We're going to make it through this. I'm sorry I made you raid the crops with me. If I knew that you were going to be kidnapped, I would have never done it."

He didn't know if the unconscious hobbit could hear him, but he kept talking anyway. "I'm so sorry about everything," he apologized again, feeling a large uncomfortable lump form in his throat. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you're in this mess. I'm sorry. It isn't fair for you… I'm so sorry." He managed to catch a short glimpse at his cold friend in his arms, but then a giant shock hit him so suddenly that Merry almost froze in his feet.

If Pippin did not get help soon, he might not make it. It didn't help that it was still raining horridly, and both were soaking wet. Merry recovered and quickened his steps as much as he could, ignoring the fact that he could feel Pippin slowly slipping away in his arms. "Stay with me, you stupid Took," Merry ordered. "If you die on me, I'll kill you!"

A small glint of light appeared in the distance. After ruling out the possibility of it being a mirage, Merry instantly recognized it as the small fire Sam and Frodo had started in the cave. "Hey!" he screamed, hoping to get their attention.

It worked. Both hobbits lifted their heads to see the faraway Merry stumble towards him, carrying something awfully limp in his arms. Sam stood up slowly, and felt a wide grin grow on his face as soon as he realized what the Brandybuck brought back.

"He found him!" Sam exclaimed, jumping up and down in delight. "He found him!"

Frodo squinted to get a clearer view of the approaching hobbit. The heavy rain was blurring much of his vision, but there was a small glint of hope inside Frodo that told him what Merry was carrying towards them. "You don't mean…" he started, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"Yes!" Sam interrupted. "Pippin! He found Pippin!"

Merry was now glad of the rain, for it served well to conceal his tears that were now pouring endlessly down his cheeks. If the tears were of happiness for finding his friend or from despair for realizing that he might lose him, Merry could not decide. Collapsing onto the ground as soon as he reached the warm little cave, the hobbit felt a strange dizziness overwhelm his body and head. Much to his discontent, his legs suddenly regained feelings of soreness and pain, and the icy chills returned.

"Get them some soup!" Sam ordered as he rushed to their sides. "Blankets! Dry clothes! Hurry!"

Frodo was slightly taken by the change of the gardener's role, but obeyed anyway. Both hobbits were dried off the best they could by the fire, wrapped tightly in the thick blankets, and soup was placed over the tiny fire to be heated. Merry had recovered quickly, and was soon sitting upright next to Pippin, eagerly awaiting his awakening.

"He's going to be alright," Merry muttered to himself as he stared at the motionless hobbit. The words brought him no confidence.

Exchanging nervous looks, Sam and Frodo began to lose faith. They did not know how long Pippin had been in the cold. Somehow sensing this, Merry tore his gaze away from his limp friend and blinked as his eyes met those of Frodo. "He's going to be alright," he told him, but his shaking voice gave him away.

He chose not to answer. Frodo turned away guiltily, finding sudden great interest in the dirt below.

Merry turned to Sam, who gave the same wordless response. "No," the Brandybuck sobbed as he turned back to his friend. "You're alive, I know it. You're going to make it, you always do." A part of him wished deeply that Pippin would give some sign of life, a nod, a sigh, a cough, _anything_, but the more logical part of Merry knew it wouldn't happen.

"You stupid Took," Merry spat as he curled up closer to his friend, now allowing the tears to freely run down his cheeks like rivers. "Of all the times you choose to die, it had to be tonight."

He gave a long sigh, and wiped his running nose with the back of his sleeve subconsciously. "You could have died when we tried to invent a flying device by tying you to a kite and tossing you off a cliff, but no," he continued. "You could have died when you dropped your torch in the ale cellar and set it completely ablaze, but no. You could have died when we wanted to see how long you could stay riding on that crazy untamed pony of Sam's, but no. I told you I'm sorry already, isn't that enough?!"

Frodo dazed out for the moment. He himself could not believe what had just happened. Why couldn't he cry? He was sad, he knew that much, but his eyes were as dry as bone. Pippin and the three had been through so much together, to give up on him seemed the wrong thing to do. Unfortunately, there wasn't any point in having false hopes.

"He's… gone," Frodo whispered, then bowed his head sadly.

"Oh, Pippin," Sam mumbled as he took the hobbit's limp hand in his own. A long moment of silence passed. None knew what to say, but all was understood. The quiet sobs that echoed in the small cave were deafening.

It was Sam who broke the silence with a confused grunt, and a small glance at Frodo. "His hand…" he started, but couldn't find the words. "It's… his hand is… he squeezed my hand."

He paused in surprise, but quickly concealed his shock. "Are you sure?" Frodo asked.

"… Positive."  
  
Merry leaned over to get a better view, and suddenly his face lit up like a child in a candy store. "Color is returning to his face!" he exclaimed, practically leaping up in joy. Unfortunately, his fatigue stopped him from doing so.

"Pippin!" Sam said, tapping the hobbit on the cheek gently. "Awaken! Give me a sign of life!"

The Took groaned softly and turned his head away.

"He's ALIVE!" Frodo and Merry screamed at the same time, and then threw themselves into each other's arms in a giant hug. Wide smiles replaced their cheerless expressions. To Merry, it felt as if someone had lifted a giant boulder that weighed down on his chest, preventing him from breathing. Pippin was alive. He had not heard news as good as this in his entire life.

All the cheering and celebrating disrupted the Took's attempt at sleep. Pippin managed to open one tired eye to see Sam hovering above him, crying his tears of joy. "S…Sam?" he croaked, his voice dry and hoarse.

"Yes, yes, it's me! You're with us now!" the gardener exclaimed happily. Then, he turned to Frodo and said with an intimidating commanding tone, "Where's that soup? The poor hobbit needs food! He's so thin he'll soon disappear!"

Frodo turned his head to the fire, and was surprised to see a dark figure towering over the small pot of soup they had set over it. Frowning, he turned his attention back to Sam. "I'd give you the soup if you get that fat horse will get out of the way!" he snapped back.

Raising his head, Sam turned and faced the horse. He stared blankly at the animal standing nervously at the entrance of the cave, as if ready to dart away any second. "Frodo, our horse isn't anywhere near the fire," he pointed out.

Everyone paused to turn and stare at the dark figure. Sam's heartbeat quickened when he saw two gleaming eyes stare back at him evilly, sending deathly chills down his spine. "That's not a horse…" he heard Frodo whisper.

The figure took a huge leap from the fire to the four hobbits with one amazing bound. It landed gracefully with less than a sound, and screeched loudly at its new victims while baring its sharp fangs. Drool dripped from its mouth greedily as the hobbits realized what new foe with which they were forced to compete.

"GOBLIN!" Merry screamed, turning around to run for his life.


	12. Ambushed

**CHAPTER TWELVE:** Ambushed

Merry was the first to flee. Sprinting towards the exit with the rain still pouring down at the cave's mouth, the hobbit immediately skidded to a stop when suddenly, out of nowhere, the same vicious creature landed right before him. With one disgusting hiss, it lunged at its new enemy, but Merry avoided its attack with a stroke of pure luck.

Turning around briefly, he found that more and more hideous sulking beasts were quickly surrounding Frodo, Sam and Pippin. They seemed to pour endlessly from the dark shadows of the cave, perhaps deeper, but from where they came did not matter. What did, however, was the fact that they must escape, before their slim chance completely vanished.

Without wasting another precious moment, Merry dodged the grasp of the greedy goblin and ran past him with agility that none knew he had. Approaching the small and humble fire, the hobbit grabbed a thick piece of firewood with his hand and plunged one end into the hungry licking flames. It was set alight almost immediately. Merry felt a new wave of courage passing over him as, with an angry grunt, he took one powerful swing at the unaware goblin.

It was surely surprised with the sudden attack from the hobbit. Still, it managed to escape the deadly blow, but barely. "Hey!" Merry screamed to divert the attention of the goblins advancing on his friends. Fortunately, it worked. One by one, the goblins turned their attention from their captives to the Brandybuck standing in the near distance.

Merry cleared his throat. "Have you ever got beaten up by a hobbit?"

A larger brown goblin, their leader, hissed angrily at the question. Taking opportunity of the goblin's distracted attention, Sam balled his fist and with all his strength, he took one mighty swing at the goblin. Time seemed to slow painfully down as all the hobbits watched. The gardener landed his punch on the side of the creature's head with a dull thud that echoed in their minds, followed by a small squeal that escaped the goblin's mouth. The force knocked the beast with such power that it fell to the ground with another thud, its body twitching from the impact.

Time sped up again, with Sam standing over the goblin tall and proud, glaring down at it as if it were lowly and repulsive. He turned around, then to Frodo and Pippin's surprise, proceeded to clutch his fist and grit his teeth in great pain. The goblins stared at their leader lifelessly sprawled out on the ground by the fist of this one small being, then returned their look to the hobbits. Then, back to their leader, then the hobbits, as if they were pondering a decision. 

Frodo lifted the dozy Pippin off the floor and signaled to Sam. "Let's get out of here before they realize that was a total fluke," he whispered hastily. They scampered their way past the confused creatures, and once they reached Merry, they fled as fast as their feet could carry them.

That was when a single goblin snapped from the daze and the realization hit him. Spinning around and catching a glimpse of the fleeing hobbits, it let out one ear splitting screech and warned the others of their escape. Almost at once, the creatures turned and growled angrily, right before charging blindly at the four beings.

As the hobbits exited the cave and felt the pouring rain beat down on them once again, Sam took one short glance behind him, and gasped. "They're after us!" he panicked, picking up his pace.

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious!" Merry answered. "Now fly!"

"I'm flying, I'm flying!"

"Fly FASTER!"

Sam took another glimpse behind him and was completely taken to see the goblins in the middle of overtaking their wine cart, conveniently parked outside the cave. "STOP FLYING! They're stealing the wine!" he screamed again.

Merry skidded to a stop, with a new glint of fury evident in his eyes. "They're WHAT?!" he dared Sam to repeat.

"The wine is being _stole'd_!"

"Oh, that's the final straw!" And with that, Merry turned around and marched straight towards the advancing crowd of goblins, sleeves rolled up and ready for action.

"No, Merry! Why are you so stupid?" Frodo protested, still clutching the droopy hobbit in his arms. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Mess with the wine, and you're messing with an angry Brandybuck!" was his last phrase before the goblins overwhelmed him. Sam and Frodo watched in horror, as the curly sand hued hair of the hobbit seemed to disappear in the sea of green, brown and black creatures.

Sam began rolling up his sleeves and cracking his knuckles. "I'm going after him," he declared bravely as he stormed towards the angry mob.

"But Sam!" Frodo said in attempt to save his friend. "Didn't your Gaffer always tell you, _'heroism is often followed by a painfully slow death'?"_

"Screw the Gaffer!" was his reply.

Sighing in disappointment, Frodo turned to the presently unconscious Pippin and asked, "Is no one afraid of Death here, except me?"

However it appeared as if there was no reason to fear the icy grasp of the Death yet. Before Sam could reach the swarm of goblins, he was surprised to see that the creatures were slowly backing away, as if they feared something. The mob wasn't as wild as before, he noticed. And smack in the center of the crowd was Merry, suspending a goblin by its neck in one hand and punching it repetitively with his other.

Sam stopped in his tracks as he watched the angry hobbit unleash his wrath. Merry successfully cast a shadow of fear over the creatures, which have greatly underestimated this tiny being. "This is for Pippin!" he screamed as he let fly one final blow to the goblin's head, then released his grip and let it fall onto the muddy floor, limp. Raising his head and glaring at the circle of watching beasts, he pointed one threatening finger at the crowd.

"Who's next?" Merry growled.

To his astonishment, it wasn't a goblin that approached him next. A giant beast twice a hobbit's height leapt gracefully despite its size and landed in a crouching position before Merry. It bared its large yellow teeth and glared threateningly at its new prey, its thick black fur rising.

The goblins regained their confidence, and began hissing and snapping at their captive once again. Merry's ears perked as he picked up a collection of snarls seemingly from above. Slowly turning, his jaw dropped in disbelief as he saw, perched on the near cliff, a pack of wolf-like beasts as black as night. Their eyes glowed eerily as they watched the hobbits, waiting for the perfect moment.

"Wargs," Sam whispered. "The goblins have allies."

Frodo sighed. "We're doomed."


	13. The rescue

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN:** The rescue 

They thought for sure that they were goners.  Merry was still separated from Sam, Frodo and Pippin, but that didn't seem to matter much.  They were all forced the same fate: death by wargs and goblins.  Sneering and growling at the hobbits were the angry goblins, which now decided that their victims were to have a slow and painful death.  The wargs also hungered for fresh meat, something they had not had the pleasure to taste for almost weeks.

"Merry?" Sam said to his comrade over the hisses and growls, never tearing his eyes away from the creature before him.

"Yes, Sam?" 

"Since we're going to die anyways," the gardener sighed, "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for calling you an incompetent, abhorrent being and an insult to all hobbits." 

Merry hesitated.  "… You called me that?"

He shrugged.

"Well… I'm sorry I said your mushroom soup tasted like feces that came from a cannibal frog," Merry apologized.

"I thought you said you liked my mushroom soup!"

"I lied."

"…Oh."

A long silence seemed to leer at the goblins, wargs, and hobbits, daring each of them to make the first move.

"Merry?" Samwise said again.

"Yes, Sam?"

"… Frog feces?"

"Cannibal frog feces."

Merry turned back to face the Warg that stood before him, donning a hungry grin.  Seeing no further point in defending himself, as they were completely surrounded and hopeless now, the Brandybuck merely grit his teeth and said a few last mental goodbyes.  He saw the Warg lunge at him suddenly, snarling with his jagged teeth.  Squeezing his eyes shut, Merry braced himself for the pain that was to come from teeth tearing into his flesh.

Screeches of shock and fear filled his ears.  And to his surprise, the screams did not emerge from his own mouth.  He dared to open one eye, and was totally taken to see a rather fat goblin being flung towards him at a fast speed.  He had not the time to avoid the incoming creature, and was hit with a great force.  The fat goblin landed on top of him, squeezing the wind from Merry's lungs.  

"It's attacking the Wargs!" Merry heard Frodo yell from underneath the beast.  More squeals of pain and terror filled the air, and then it was followed by the rushed footsteps of fleeing.  With one heavy grunt, the Brandybuck pushed the limp creature away and sat up.

Stars immediately blurred his vision.  Squinting, he saw before him a giant blurb far greater in size than anything he had ever seen.  Another shape, perhaps a Warg, ran quickly from this mysterious blurb, but much to Merry's astonishment, the blurb snapped at the Warg as fast as lightning.  Flinging its head wildly with the Warg's tail (or maybe its foot?) chomped in his mouth, the poor Warg was hurled into the far away distance, never to be seen again.  

The blurb attacked another shape (was it a goblin?) almost immediately after.  Merry blinked, and rubbed his eyes in attempt to clarify his vision.  What he saw almost made him fall into shock.  "It's… it's…" he started, but couldn't find the words.

"A dragon!" a voice screamed, one who Merry immediately identified as Pippin's.  "_MY_ dragon!"

   
Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, Pippin had awoken to find his dragon friend leap to their rescue.  The adrenaline rush made him scamper to his feet and jump up and down happily at the sight of their savior, ignoring his aching body for the slight moment.  All the hobbits remained still, gaping at the giant beast with jaws dropped to the ground as the goblins and Wargs ran to find safety.  

With one giant breath, the dragon let out an inferno through his nostrils despite the heavy rain.  The unfortunate slow runners were caught, and burnt to a crisp almost immediately.   

It was soon after that all was left was the dragon, standing tall and proud over the many burnt and chewed up bodies, and the four hobbits.  The stench of burning flesh lingered about in the air, but no one seemed to notice.  The four hobbits stood in awe, staring at the towering creature that saved their lives.

Pippin was the first to move.  He nudged Merry in the ribs and flashed his trademark smirk.  "Isn't he the _bestest_ thing since Sam's mushroom rolls?"

"Mushroom rolls?" Merry questioned.

  
  
Nodding, Pippin began to daydream about food again.  "He takes this seaweed-ish paper and wraps it around sticky rice and mushrooms, with vegetables like avacado or various meat… I think he called them _sushi_, but that's such a silly name." 

"Ah," he nodded understandingly.

The dragon raised his head in the air in pride, and let out an impressive roar.  Sam screamed in fright, and scampered to hide behind Frodo, while Merry continued to stare.

The Took marched straight up to the red beast and tapped on its toe.  "Hey buuuuddy, thanks!  We're even now."  

It nodded as if to say you're welcome, and turned around to leave.

That was when an idea hit Frodo's head.  He quickly poked Pippin's shoulder to get his attention, and whispered, "If it's not too much to ask, can your dragon give us a ride back to the Shire?  I think our horse fled on us and I bet the goblins took what's left of our food…"

Pippin grinned widely.  "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Frodo blinked, and turned to look at the giant tail of the dragon passing before him.  

"Hurry, he's going to leave soon!" Pippin urged.

Giving a loud shout, Frodo managed to capture the attention of the red creature right before it spread its wings to fly away.  "Do you mind… giving us a lift to the Shire?"  

The dragon turned around and faced the tiny hobbit with glowing yellow eyes.  Frodo felt the slightest bit of intimidation, but it immediately disappeared when the creature let out a silly toothy smirk.  It lowered its body to allow the hobbits to climb on, and waited patiently.

Pippin climbed on with the help of Merry, followed by Frodo.  Unfortunately, Sam stubbornly stayed on the ground and refused to board the frightening beast.  "That's a _dragon_," he said.

"We know," Frodo replied.  "It's our only way home, Samwise.  Come on, its not going to bite you."  
  
The red beast bared its yellow fangs innocently at the hobbit.  Sam widened his eyes at the sight of this, and stepped back in fear.  "I don't trust that dragon, Mr. Frodo!  You know what my Gaffer said about animals with shifty eyes, and that dragon's got them shifty eyes--"

Unfortunately, before Sam was allowed to finish his sentence, the dragon seized him by the coat, tossed him above his head and onto his back with the rest of the hobbits.  With one powerful push of its hind legs, it leaped into the air and spread its wings wide, soaring higher and higher.

Frodo was content for finding his friend.  Sam was clinging on to the body of the dragon for his dear life, for the poor hobbit was afraid of heights.  Pippin decided to take his much deserved rest, while Merry was kicking himself for forgetting the wine.  But overall, the same feeling was shared between the four friends.  

They were glad to be finally heading home.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue 

The dragon dropped the four of them off in the outskirts of town to avoid suspicion, and bid them farewell before disappearing from their sight… but not forever. Every so often, the habitants of the Shire claim to have spotted a red object flying in the sky near the Took residence, but none dared to say anything about it in fear of mockery ("A dragon, you say? Have you been smoking that special weed again?"). Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin merely smirked and said nothing more when asked their opinion of the sightings.

Estella returned to the Shire to visit her brother, as well as Merry. Both of their mischievous minds combined equaled to trouble, and the couple would often find themselves spending the night in the local jail for their outstanding pranks. However, they wouldn't have it any other way. Merry still regrets not taking any of the wine home with him.

Pippin recovered amazingly quick, and returned to his normal life (whatever normal is) within no time. He still raids Farmer Maggot's crops with Merry, despite all the unfortunate incidents he has had with the farmer's guard dogs. Also, the Took continues to keep random objects in his pockets. His reason? Just in case a dragon comes to kidnap him in a cornfield.

Sam is still afraid of heights, and his Doggit senses remain a part of him. His sharpened sense of smell is a great boost to his cooking skills, and is an even better chef than before. He is also dubbed Middle-earth's first sushi chef.

Frodo decided to write a short fiction about the events that has passed, but never got around to it because of the whole "the One Ring bearer" deal. So he hired me to write it for him, in exchange for the second One Ring. Unfortunately, because of copyright laws (Frodo sold his stories to the Ringmaster himself, Tolkien, therefore if I were to publish what you have just read I would be sued my butt off) I have to settle for posting it on fanfiction (dot) net. Not that it's a bad thing.

But on the bright side, I now have the second One Ring.

Fin.


End file.
